


Myrmidon

by Selene_Sokal



Category: RWBY
Genre: Ant Girls, Bondage, Cunnilingus, F/F, F/M, Gender or Sex Swap, Harems, Incest, Lactation, Mind Break, Mind Manipulation, Multi, Oral Sex, Tribadism, supervillainy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:48:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 51,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22233574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selene_Sokal/pseuds/Selene_Sokal
Summary: As an alchemist, Jaune has long searched for a way to help protect his town and keep his best friend, Yang Xiao Long, Captain of the Town Guard, safe from harm. And now he's found a long-lost formula to create a Myrmidon, a legendary warrior made from an ant, with the strength and unshakeable loyalty of its former formicid life. Though Yang's skeptical, and more than a little concerned about what sort of magic he might be bringing into their town.
Relationships: Arslan Altan/Yang Xiao Long, Blake Belladonna/Ruby Rose, Cinder Fall/Emerald Sustrai, Glynda Goodwitch/Yang Xiao Long, Jaune Arc/Blake Belladonna, Jaune Arc/Cinder Fall, Jaune Arc/Pyrrha Nikos, Jaune Arc/Raven Branwen, Jaune Arc/Raven Branwen/Yang Xiao Long, Jaune Arc/Ruby Rose, Jaune Arc/Yang Xiao Long, Pyrrha Nikos/Raven Branwen, Pyrrha Nikos/Yang Xiao Long, Raven Branwen/Yang Xiao Long
Comments: 109
Kudos: 282





	1. The Myrmidon

If there was one alchemy that Jaune had truly mastered, Yang thought, it was in this cup right now.

Yang sipped her coffee with a satisfied sigh. She enjoyed the opportunity to take a patrol break for more than a few reasons, but getting a damn good cup of coffee from Jaune was definitely up there. Sitting in his lab, watching him scurry back and forth between various tomes and notes, a large cauldron boiling over a fire and various instruments smoking and bubbling—there was always something to watch, and it made for a nice break from the usual tedium of being Captain of the Town Guard in a town as sleepy as Beacon.

But Jaune seemed to find what he was looking for when he raced back to the desk she was seated at. “Here!” he slammed an open book down in front of her, “A Myrmidon!”

She looked at the book, apparently a private journal more than anything actually created for publication, and the crude drawing of a warrior, with a spear and shield and clad in the bronze armor of Ancient Mistral. “O…k?” she replied, “And you’re showing me this because…”

“Oh, yeah,” he looked at her sheepishly, “I forgot to explain. Ahem!” he cleared his throat. “The Myrmidons were legendary warriors of the Classical Age created from alchemically transformed ants—meaning they still had the fierceness and unbending loyalty of their formicid forebears. But the recipe’s been lost to myth for as long as anyone can remember. EXCEPT! I recently acquired this journal that I believe to be the notes of the alchemist Nicodemus the Mad, who deduced-”

She looked at him incredulously. “Nicodemus _the Mad?_ And you’re not worried that, with a name like that, he might be not a good guide?” She worried about Jaune sometimes, sometimes being a lot of times, and his total lack of common sense. She really did.

“It’s just a title!” he scowled, defensively. “A lot of people get titles for pissing off the wrong people or not having great social skills, it doesn't _mean_ anything about them. Besides,” he jabbed a finger at the dense scribbles that were probably words, “he figured out the way the ancients created the original Myrmidon warriors!”

“I thought we knew that, that they were created from sowing dragon’s teeth?” Yang asked, lazily.

“No,” he sighed, and Yang braced for the incoming lecture, “those were the _spartoi_ and they were a metaphor for the way the arrival of literacy created disruption among- but that’s not important! What matters is, I have his notes and his formula!”

Yang shot him a bemused glance. “Well, if he’s so good at alchemy, wouldn’t we have known he created this invincible warrior?”

He looked back at her sheepishly. “Er, he maybe… he maybe, um, didn’t have the formula _quite_ right at first and may have… got… murdered by a horrifying ant monster- BUT, I can already see his mistake and I have a-”

“Jaune!” she put her foot down with a mighty _STOMP_ that shook the various glass instruments in the lab, “Why are you doing _any_ of this? Why are you risking getting _eaten_ for _any_ reason?”

He gave her a defensive look. “Well, I live on the edge of town, there’s still a lot of dangers out in the woods, and the ice witch who dwells on the mountain could make a move against us any day! It’s dangerous out here, and I have to think of my own safety-”

“ _I’ll_ protect you, Jaune, like I’ve always protected you.” It was true. Ever since they were kids and bullies immediately identified the bookish, socially awkward kid as an easy target, Yang had been there to make them regret it.

“I know that,” he replied, softly, “I just… Yang, pulling those arrows from you…” and his voice trailed off as he gave her a pleading look.

It was a hard look to face. Yang remembered that night all too well, having been caught in an ambush while chasing down some thieves, where she’d only narrowly survived. She had taken the worst of it to lead the rest of her men to victory, but she had to be taken back to Jaune for treatment. He’d saved her life that night, and, somehow even more importantly, it was the night Yang realized, from the way his face was streaked with worry when she first saw him, to the tender way he handled every step of her treatment, that she loved him. That she had been in love with him for a long time.

She placed her hand on Jaune’s, and thrilled to feel his fingers beneath hers. She was likely the boldest woman in the whole kingdom, and yet, she couldn’t work up the courage to tell her childhood friend how she felt. But she could work up the courage to try to dissuade him from getting eaten by a horrifying ant monster.

“Alright,” she said in her sternest voice, “if I can’t stop you, I can’t stop you, but if you’re doing this, I’m going to be there for security- uh-uh-uh!” she cut off his protestations, “No objections. You are not risking getting murdered by an ant monster no matter how good this magic warrior might be.”

“But that’s the thing!” Jaune responded, excitedly, “If I do it _right_ , he’ll be as loyal as any-”

“ _She,_ ” she corrected. Jaune shot her a quizzical glance. “It’s an ant, right? The Myrmidon? So if it’s made from a soldier ant, it’s going to be female.”

Now he was the one to give her a bemused look. “You remembered something from Oobleck’s class? That might be the most incredible discovery I’ll ever make.”

“Oh, get off it,” she waved him off with a laugh, “Ants are cool, man, I liked learning about their whole little deals.”

Though she had never really thought of them as anything—any _one_ , she corrected—she might _actually know_.

* * *

This time, when Yang came back to Jaune’s lab, there was no coffee. Every single instrument, including the delicate porcelain-and-glass contraption that he used to brew her the best coffee one could get in all of the Vale, was now being used to, in some way, set up the creation of this… Myrmidon.

The word sat ill in her mind. It sounded… harsh, mechanical. Like a karkadann, or some other mythical monster that must be slain before it destroys the town. Yang wasn’t sure she liked this magical warrior plan from the first place, but if they were going to do it, she would sleep easier if she could think of it as a person. “Hey Jaune,” she called out, awkwardly shifting on her stool in the corner, “What’re you naming this thing?”

Jaune looked up from his notes, double checking that the powder he was mixing in was making the liquid the right shade of purple. “He- sorry, _she’s_ a red ant, so… Pyrrha? Classical Mistralian for ‘red,’ which-”

Yang couldn’t stifle her laugh. “Seriously? We’re just going to name her ‘red’ and expect her to think we’re responsible parents-” her mouth went dry as she realized what she had said in jest, but she was quick to correct her attitude with a joke. “Seriously, my dad just chopped the first syllable off of _his_ name to give me mine, and it’s no picnic to realize that the name you’ll be carrying for your whole life was produced by _laziness._ ”

“Do you have a better idea?” he shot back, evidently overworked enough to not be in the mood for jokes.

“Pyrrha it is,” she answered, quietly.

However, it seemed that Jaune finally had the potion apportioned out how it should be, and he signaled to Yang to get ready. She gripped her sword—as much as Yang liked to solve things with Ember and Celica (yeah, she’d named her fists, ain’t nobody gonna start a problem with her over it), with the descriptions Jaune had of what could go _wrong_ , she wanted some steel on her side.

But Jaune plucked up the ant, “Pyrrha,” she supposed, with a pair of tweezers, and then, with a few careful drops… a burst of white smoke flooded the room. 

This was what she’d been told to expect, but still, Yang _did not like_ the sudden loss of visibility. Something smelled like lemons, and was that a burst of cinnamon? But Jaune wasn’t screaming in horror or pain, so she took a breath as she slowly advanced into it, seeing a dark shape in front of her, and bracing as the smoke cleared.

There was… it was a woman.

A woman in bronze armor, but… good gods above, from the long, lustrous red hair framing an angelic face, her armor artfully emphasizing her chest in a way that even made _Yang_ feel self-conscious, and legs that just seemed to go on forever… Yang didn’t even notice at first the two, subtle antenna bobbing cutely on her forehead, beneath her bronze tiara.

Yang’s mouth went dry. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but she certainly hadn’t expected her to be _gorgeous_. It took her a second to remember that the last one of these had murdered their creator, spurring her into action, sword in hand. But the woman simply lowered her eyes, reverently, and knelt before Jaune.

“Thank you, Master, for choosing this one for your service. How may I fulfill your desires?” Her voice was as alluring as the rest of her, but her tone, that was what shocked Yang. It was not mindless obedience or iron-clad loyalty, but something… warm. She greeted him like a lover, like she was glad, even _grateful_ , that she had the opportunity to serve him.

“Um… I, uh…” Jaune was at a total loss for words, and if Yang wasn’t also in the same state, she’d probably have chided him for not having this part prepared. “I, uh, guess, um, protect my home? Oh! And me. And follow my orders!” He glanced, sheepishly, at Yang, clearly wracking his mind for what the right orders were supposed to be. But for all her experience leading men into combat, she sure didn’t know what “Um, and, uh, fulfill Yang’s desires as well,” he stuttered, miming her awkward phrasing.

The girl looked up, her brilliant green eyes _dazzling_ both Yang and Jaune. “I understand,” she nodded, “I shall carry out your will, my Master. May I rise?”

Jaune stared at her, gobsmacked, for a few more seconds. Then, “Oh! Um, yes. Yes you may.”

And as she stood back up, Yang once again got an excellent view of the woman Jaune just brought into their lives. She was like one of those ancient marble statues, except brought to life and, looking at her supple curves with a nervous swallow, made of much softer stuff. Wasn’t she supposed to be an unstoppable warrior? Shouldn’t she look like, Yang didn’t know, some burly, seven foot tall clobberer, not some kind of- of- some kind of beauty queen!

With the way that girl was looking at Jaune, that look of pure _devotion_ , like she was his wife instead of his… obedient ant girl slave?—well, whatever she was, Yang sure didn’t want to give either of them privacy, but at the same time, she really couldn’t bear to spend another minute watching Jaune’s eyes pop out of their sockets as this ant hussy pledged her loyalty and servitude.

She hadn’t had her coffee, and she- she just- she needed to something to drink!

* * *

Yang was having a drink, but it wasn’t coffee.

And it wasn’t with Jaune.

She slammed the mug down and roared at the barkeep for another. One of the guard, Sun, tried to jokingly dissuade her from drinking more, but she shot him a withering glare that convinced him to back off. The ale came quick, and she was equally swift to down it, except…

Except there was a knot in her throat that made it hard to down her drink. She put her mug down and sighed. She couldn’t do this here. Not with her men around her. As far as they knew, she was pissed about something and they could guess that it involved Jaune—and from what she heard Neptune whisper to Arslan, in what he must have assumed was too quiet for her to hear, they figured he’d done something _real_ stupid with dangerous magic and the Captain was just frustrated with her idiot friend.

Well, they weren’t wrong.

She got up from her stool. “Goin’ home,” she grunted to Arslan, who nodded in response, but didn’t try to stop her or follow. Even dissuaded Sun from doing so. Smart girl. Not the type to turn a goddamn ant into some kind of warrior-slut to stomp on her heart.

As she stumbled out of the tavern, she could already picture it. The red-haired vixen, maybe she’d be seated in his lap, or _worse_ , maybe she’d be _kneeling_ again! But she’d ask him, in that breathy, come-fuck-me voice if there was any _other_ way she could “fulfill his desires,” and damnit all! Yang could think of a lot of ways she could.

Unbearably frustrated with herself as much as she was with ant girl, she stopped walking to choke back a sob and take a moment to compose herself. She’d had a bit too much to drink and she was upset about the boy she secretly liked having a beautiful woman totally at his beck and call. Some of it was reasonable, some of it was ridiculous, but however she felt, there was no reason to fall to pieces over- wait a minute, where was she?

She looked around. This wasn’t the road back to her home. She didn’t recognize- no, she did recognize this road. Glancing up at the house at the edge of the woods, windows lit in a warm orange by a fire no doubt merrily burning inside.

Her feet felt like lead. But she knew, she _knew_ why they’d brought her here. The walk home felt too daunting to not take her chance, as much as her stomach _roiled_ at the thought. But she had made up her mind. She would go in. She would go in and _tell him_ how she felt before… before ant girl got a chance. And if she’d beaten her to the punch? _Well_ , she cracked her knuckles, _let’s see how good this “legendary warrior” really is…_

Stumbling to the door, she harshly rapped on the door, suddenly realizing from the booming _thunk_ of her knuckles against the door that she might not be in the best state of- 

And then the door opened to reveal the beautiful smiling face of… ant girl. “Hello, Captain Xiao Long. I am afraid Master is out picking up an unexpectedly early delivery of rare materials. He says he anticipates it will take some time before he returns. I apologize for any-” she stopped as, with her palm, she blocked Yang from entering the home. The two women stared at each other for a moment. “I apologize for any inconvenience,” she finished.

Yang glared. But at the same time, she’d gotten her first sense of the Myrmidon’s abilities. The girl must have been nearly as strong as Yang was, and she bristled a little at the thought. The girl scratched at a lot of her insecurities, and she did not like the idea that someone might try to replace her as protector of her people. Still, as hard as it was, she tamped her anger down. She had no interest of having to tell Jaune she got in a drunken brawl with his sex doll because she felt _insecure_.

“Jaune’s used to having me over when he’s out,” she started, slightly diplomatically, but as she said, “May I please come in?” her teeth started to grit.

Fortunately, with the request, the girl nodded, and stepped aside to let Yang enter, feeling like a stranger to the house she visited nearly every day. Looking around, she realized she’d never seen Jaune’s home so… clean. Glancing up at the self-satisfied Myrmidon, it didn’t take much to guess what happened. “So, he’s got you playing maid, too? Some legendary warrior…”

But if the personal attack had any impact, the girl didn’t show it. “I serve however my Master requires,” she replied.

“Well, I’m sure he’s had plenty of thoughts about that, _Red_.” She spat the name like it was a curse, which, well, it sort of was.

“Oh, you mean in reference to my name?” the girl replied, the faintest hint of ice in her voice telling Yang that she _wasn’t_ immune to insults, “I am most grateful to Master for it. I have never had a name before, and I find this one quite… fetching.”

Yang scowled as she looked away, unable to bear the smug look on ant girl’s face. She was upset that Jaune had never given her a name, and even more upset at how stupid it was to be upset at that. She idly picked up an instrument that was on Jaune’s coffee table, only to suddenly feel a hand on her wrist. 

“What are you doing!” she asked, struggling against a vicelike grip. “Let go of me!” 

“That is a delicate instrument,” she said, plucking it from Yang’s hand. “I am to protect Master’s house.” But her voice was no longer the picture of pleasant normalcy. That note of hostility that had started to creep in was now wholly present, and had become the hint of a challenge. _She protects the house? Well, let’s see how good she was at that._

Yang knew she wouldn’t get anywhere trying to break that grip, but she still had a free hand and threw a wild haymaker. But ant girl was faster and caught the punch with her other hand. Good. Yang didn’t want this to be easy. She swung her forehead down, only for ant girl to duck, cross both of Yang’s hands in front of her, and give her a shoulder tackle right into the chest. The blow winded her, and now that the girl was beneath her, it was little difficulty to use her leverage to throw Yang down onto her back. 

Catching her breath on the floor, she looked up at the Myrmidon and saw her haughty look of contempt. She thought she was better than her? As a fighter? Or was she just thinking about how she was stealing Jaune from her? Well now she _knew_ she couldn’t let ant bitch get away with this. She flipped herself back on her feet and threw herself at the girl.

One of them might be a legendary warrior of superhuman strength and magical abilities, but Yang had been brawling since before she could walk. Her weight and momentum brought ant bitch to the floor and soon, the both of them were wrestling. She was on top, holding the redhead down, pressing her into the floor, and enjoying the way that inscrutable face was now showing surprise and, she grinned to see it, annoyance. _Not so great now, are you?_

But her advantage was short lived. Yang might have been her match in strength, but she was up against a supernaturally disciplined, tireless warrior who quickly found the weakness in Yang’s style, and suddenly flipped her off her. Before she could even realize what was happening, she had Yang in a submission hold, her arm pinned behind her and unable to do more than struggle in vain against ant girl’s strength.

Yang, though, knew she had one last card to play. “You were told you had to obey me, so _let! Me! Go!_ ” 

But ant girl didn’t do anything, and Yang felt a small surge of fear as she realized that it could be a very long time before Jaune was done inspecting all of his shipment. A very long time to be utterly at the mercy of something that emphatically wasn’t human.

“I wasn’t told to obey you,” she said, simply and easily like she was just clarifying a point of order, not like she was exerting herself to subdue Yang, “I was told to fulfill your desires, and,” she eased Yang up only to press her face into the table, “I think I’ve figured out how to best do that.”

“Let go of me you _psycho bitch!_ ” Yang said, but a wild note of fear crept into her voice and made the end high and desperate. 

“I’m trying to help you, Yang,” the Myrmidon replied, patiently. 

“I don’t want yourrrrr—AGH!” A single finger was pressed into a nerve on her wrist and pain lanced down her side, a hold not dissimilar to a technique Yang herself used to subdue drunks and other minor lawbreakers.

“Will you stop struggling now?” 

“I’ll be good, I’ll be good!” she whined, pitifully, no longer feeling like the Captain of the Town Guard. She barely even felt like an adult, more like a little girl who’d been caught misbehaving, and promising to do _anything_ to not get spanked.

“Good,” she said, soothingly, and Yang hated herself for relaxing at it, her treacherous body just happy to avoid pain. “I know what you want Yang. And I want you to have it.” 

“W-what do you mean,” she asked, timidly.

She felt Pyrrha’s grip on her shift, and she gave a sigh of relief as it released some of the tension. The hold became something less restricting and more… guiding. “You want Master.” 

But at that, Yang immediately shot up, struggling against the grip, only to discover how easily Pyrrha could shift back to restriction. Could shift back to pain. Her futile struggle was quickly snuffed out. The pain was extraordinary, and a part of Yang was _desperate_ to not have to feel it again.

“You want Master and you’re jealous, Yang,” she said, still patient, still soothing, like one might handle a wayward horse. “And you can have him.” 

Yang wasn’t able to really cohere a response to that, but she gave a faint murmur of hope.

“Yes, Yang, you can. Be a good girl for me, and you can have him, just like I have him.” 

“H-how?” she croaked, fearful to speak too loudly less it earn Pyrrha’s displeasure.

But her fears were misplaced as Pyrrha once again loosened her hold, letting Yang sigh with relief mixed with pleasure. “I have Master, because I do not try to have him,” she explained, Yang appreciating how kind her voice was. “I have him because I offer myself to him. My service, my strength, my obedience. I am his Myrmidon, and so he is my Master.” 

Yang, her mind still muddled by drink and fighting and something about the way Pyrrha was holding her, couldn't help but coo softly at the thought of serving Jaune. Of being his girl, his protector, forever at his side. It sounded so lovely.

“Yes, Yang. All you have to do is offer yourself to Master, as my Myrmidon sister, and you will have him. You will have him forever.” 

“B-but I’m not, I’m-”

But Pyrrha, now running her fingers through Yang’s hair, hushed her fears. “Shhh. You are a warrior, Yang, and if you are willing to utterly devote yourself to Master, then you are a Myrmidon. I can grant you all the rest.” 

Yang smiled, realizing that Pyrrha had released her from her grip. She turned, looking into the beautiful, warm, and loving green eyes that promised her peace, happiness, and love, the life with her Master she’d always wanted. She only had one question: “What do I have to do?”

Pyrrha smiled, offering Yang her hand, and her heart soared as she knew Pyrrha and Master would take such good care of her.

* * *

“Master is _such_ a skilled alchemist!” Pyrrha gushed as she led Yang into Master’s lab. “I have an innate connection with the magic of my own creation, but even _I_ couldn’t mix the formula as precisely as he had.”

Yang’s heart fell. She knew that, to be a Myrmidon, she only needed her strength and her devotion, but she wanted to be a _true_ Myrmidon, like Pyrrha, and she worried she’d be marked as lesser in Master’s eyes, knowing that her devotion was merely voluntary instead of Pyrrha’s unbreakable loyalty. 

But Pyrrha seemed to realize the expression on Yang’s face. “Oh, I did not mean to worry you! Here!” she scooped up a vial of purple liquid from a table, “Master had not needed all of the formula for the ritual to create me.” She uncorked it and inhaled the scent, a scent that only she, apparently, could smell. “Mmmm, it’s so… The more intricate the magic, the stronger the bond between Master and Myrmidon, and this potion is…”

Yang felt herself salivate. Of course Master’s potion was made to the precise and exacting specifications that he made all of his potions with. He never cut corners, and he was always so careful—and so this potion would create an _incredible_ bond between them. 

But then she sealed the vial, and looked over to Yang with a teasing smile. “Did you think it was normal for a girl as strong willed as you to give in so easily and just submit to me?”

Yang nodded excitedly. It was the most natural thing in the world to stop fighting Pyrrha and realize her place. But… she stilled a little at the look Pyrrha gave her. 

“I am an ant made into a human, Yang. My scent glands have... changed, but certain functions have not. I can… _enforce_ certain emotions with them. In our fight,” she ran her hand up one arm and then another, “I was making as much contact with your skin as possible, filling your mind with thoughts of love, obedience, and submission.” 

Yang looked at her, confused. “W-why are you telling me this?” she asked, suddenly aware that her mind was caught in a thick, sluggish fog.

“Because I want you to know what this potion,” she set it aside on a table as she approach Yang, sliding her arms over hers, gracefully slipping their clothes off, and making plenty of veryvery pleasant skin contact, “will let _you_ do.” 

Even through her brainfogged thoughts, even with Pyrrha’s sexy body gliding over hers, Yang was piecing together what Pyrrha meant with that. She ran her tongue a long way up Pyrrha’s body, starting at her hips and slowly reached her breasts, closing her lips around a nipple as she savored the taste. A taste she knew was full of those wonderful pheromones that made her feel like such a lovely, lovely girl. Pheromones she would soon be producing herself, and Pyrrha’s meaning became clear.

She giggled. What would stuck-up Arslan look like with a look of pure obedience on her face? Or Ms. Goodwitch, the town’s stern old maid, realizing that she suddenly needed a man—a very specific man. Or the trader, Cinder, finally spilling all her mysteries to Yang because she’d found her higher calling. Or even her awful _mother_ —but Yang was oh-so-willing to forgive if only she gained a new perspective! And that made her think of another option—one Yang thrilled at the thought, knowing that it truly proved the depth of her obedience to Master—her cute little sister, dizzy on pheromones and desperately in need of her big sister’s guidance. How would she look with a little pair of antenna? How would they all look? What a swarm they would make, what a wonderful colony they would build! 

But the only way she would get there was if she was also like her newfound sister in battle. She took the offered vial of purple liquid from Pyrrha’s hands and downed it.

* * *

Pyrrha paced about the kitchen, double-checking to make sure everything was as it should be. Master’s home was quite confusing, and as an ant, she was hardly prepared for how to manage something as complicated as a kitchen, much less a lab. 

But thinking of herself as an ant was becoming more difficult. She could feel the last of her memories of being one fade into nothingness. The mindless obedience, the endless fear, the sense of omnipresent, oppressive duty… it was like it was all a bad dream. She wished it had been. If she had been a human girl, had always been “Pyrrha,” she would have met Master and Yang so much sooner.

She glanced over to her cheerful Myrmidon companion, smiling with the joy of one who knew her place, her new antenna proudly on display as she prepared a lovely meal for Master.. While most of her ant memories were no more than an unpleasant dream, she still felt a little overwhelmed by human individuality. It felt good to have a sister in this, though she’d feel even better once they had a proper colony. She lived to be part of a swarm, and Yang had so wonderfully explained that there were many excellent choices from which they could build a platoon.

The air was aromatic with the pleasing scents of a hearty stew. Master would need all the energy he could get—satisfying two excited Myrmidons was sure to demand a lot! Yang had told her all about the special elixirs Master brewed, and she was particularly intrigued by her description of this “coffee” potion that rejuvenated the drinker and restored their energy. 

She slipped behind Yang and wrapped her arms around her waist, nuzzling her sister-servant’s neck and enjoying the contented sigh, a reminder of how she’d been taught how to properly serve and obey Master. She was a strong fighter, a worthy foe, but as her hands slid upwards, enjoying the way Yang’s body curved softly beneath them, Pyrrha knew that there was another reason Yang would make such an excellent Myrmidon.

Master would be _so_ happy to see them!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to fureurdenuit for feedback on the work, and for getting me to actually post it.


	2. The Myrmidons

Jaune gingerly carried his package up the steps to his home. He had spent too damn much for this Laring Root to accidentally drop the package, breaking the seal, and spoiling the whole batch. Yes, he knew it was fragile, and yes, he knew Lord Winchester had his levies raised in his campaign against the White Fang, which made travel much more difficult, but did that remotely justify how much Cinder had charged him for it? 

He sighed. It did. Cinder was the only one who could possibly get him these quantities, and this quality, in these circumstances. How she pulled it off, he knew not to ask, but nobody could move merchandise like Cinder could. Still, it didn’t make him feel any better when he had to fork over his money, especially with the way she seemed to  _ want _ him to think he’d been cheated.

As he got to the door, he was surprised to watch as it opened for him, but, of course, he was immediately reminded of something he couldn’t possibly forget.

Pyrrha, wearing her bronze armor and an angelic smile, opened the door for him and reached out to accept the package from his arms. Her antennae twitched slightly, as she lowered her eyes, submissively and Jaune felt a sudden discomfort in how certain articles of his clothes now fit him.

He was still stunned by how  _ beautiful _ she was. She was gorgeous, just gorgeous, from her pretty face and flowing crimson hair—the same brilliant shade her carapace once had—to her absolutely incredible body, he just—oh! And the way she just seemed to be  _ calling  _ for him to take advantage of her. “Fulfill your desires,” that’s how she put it. He had thought she would simply be a mindless combat automaton, but she was… so much more.

Simply stepping into his home and seeing how neatly she’d organized everything… it was incredible! Jaune had always been a messy person, something Yang had teased him about relentlessly, but his house now seemed like it was one of the wealthier homes in the center of town, the kind that had maids on staff. Well, even more so, unlike the houses of the town fathers, his felt warm and homey, organized in a way that considered his convenience as much as aesthetics. And she’d done it all in the span of an afternoon. He looked over to her in incredulous gratitude, and Pyrrha, anticipating his question, answered. “You instructed me to protect your home, Master. I understand that such protection was meant to be martial, but I feel an obligation to ensure the quality of your home is maintained to your highest standard,” and then she added, a faint twinkle in her eye, “And perhaps it is a trace of my ant side still remaining, but, I like to have things well-organized.” 

There was a fascinating piece of information in there, how Pyrrha rationalized her ant and human minds... but all he could think about was dressing this beauty in a maid uniform and all the ways she’d be oh so happy to serve him. He chuckled, shaking the image out of his mind. “Well, you did a good job, Pyr. Would you-” and then he noticed the way her eyes went wide and she seemed to silently  _ gasp _ , “Is… something wrong? I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable!”

But then she looked up at him, a look of warm sweetness in her eyes. “You called me, ‘Pyr,’ Master. You... gave me a nickname.”

“Oh.” He certainly hadn’t realized that, it just felt… normal. “Is that… alright?”

“It’s wonderful! It’s so, so… wonderful,” she answered, and Jaune swore he saw the sparkle of tears in the corner of her eyes, but then she moved behind him to pull his coat off his shoulders. “Now come, dinner is ready, and I have a most wonderful surprise for you tonight!”

He couldn’t wait. He could already smell the stew she was cooking for him, and it smelled  _ delicious. _ Though a part of his mind was reminding him that he had to be a little wary when it came to this: it happened to smell a lot, almost exactly, like Yang’s personal speciality recipe. And Yang was  _ very _ proud of that recipe, and judging from the bad mood she already was in around Pyrrha, Jaune knew he had to be careful if she found out that Pyrrha could make a stew like-

_ Naked. Naked woman! _

That was all his brain was capable of realizing as he entered the kitchen, before, of all things, it decided to note that she was clearly wearing an apron and wasn’t quite naked, despite her supple, full backside being so wonderfully exposed for him. And then he noticed the full, bouncy head of blond-

YANG!

And she turned.  _ Yang _ turned. And he saw on her head, above her warm, smiling eyes… a pair of antenna.

“Gods, Yang!” he shouted, racing over to her in a panic, though completely at a loss on what to do, at a loss on what he could do! What had his work done to her! What had… what had  _ Pyrrha  _ done to her?  _ What have I brought into my home _ , he thought in horror. He whirled on the Myrmidon. “What- what have you done! What have you done to my-”

He was cut off by a hand placed on his shoulder. “Damn, Jaune, chill.”

He whirled back to her, her familiar, her Yang-ish, her teasing smile looking up at him. “I’m still me, Jaune. Still Yang, still your favorite Captain of the Guard.”

“B-but...” he could only point to the antennae.

“Haha, yeah...” she rubbed her neck, embarrassed. “I might have… um, chugged your Myrmidon potion?”

He stared at her in total disbelief. “B-but… Yang,  _ that’s not how that- _ ”

“Perhaps I can explain,” Pyrrha said softly, cutting through his panic with a soft hand placed on his shoulder. “I am a creature of alchemy. I merely needed to… prepare Captain Xiao Long to receive the potion, and the essential nature of your work was achieved, imbuing her with the nature of a Myrmidon.”

A hundred questions came to his mind. A hundred different issues with the very most basic nature of alchemy. But all that came to his mouth was “ _ Why? _ ”

She smiled, “You instructed me to fulfil her desires, and there is nothing that Captain Xiao Long desires more than to serve you, in every way, to serve you as I do.”

Jaune staggered backwards. Everything about this was impossible. Simply impossible! Ants and magic and potions- no, that was just his everyday life, his ordinary alchemy! Yang, Yang the most desirable girl in his town, Yang the busty blonde beauty who’d been driving him  _ crazy _ ever since she her breasts came in, Yang who could not more clearly see him as a friend… But among all those assumptions, in all those ironclad rules about who she was, that last one now seemed… hazy.

_ “I’ll protect you, Jaune. Like I’ve always protected you.” _

He had thought it to be the professional pride of Captain Xiao Long, wounded by his insistence that she needed more help. But that’s not how she said it. Not at all how she said it. He felt his mind start to clear as Pyrrha massaged his shoulders, and he looked over to Yang. It all was coming together now. “Yang,” he started, hesitantly, “Is this… true?”

Yang, wearing only an apron and a look that simply  _ shined _ with submissive desire, stood before him. “It’s true Jaune. It’s  _ so _ true. I realized I was in love with you when you saved my life, but until Pyrrha gave me the push to truly give myself to you, I was too afraid to just  _ tell _ you. And now I can be everything I’ve always wanted to be: I can be  _ yours, _ Jaune. Now,” her voice became a breathy purr as she pressed her body into his, “how may I serve the kind, handsome Master I’ve so longed for?”

Jaune found himself at an utter loss for words, feeling the soft heft of her breasts, concealed only by the thin cloth of her apron, against his chest. The way her arms wrapped around his neck and the way she gazed so lovingly into his eyes… This was his childhood friend, his sworn protector, his…  _ ohhhhh _ her lips were so full and inviting as she  _ kissed  _ him, and Jaune wasn’t really able to think anymore.

It felt like a century, a wonderful, blissful century, before she released him from her kiss. Jaune felt dizzy, lightheaded as he staggered backwards, only to realize he couldn’t: another pair of arms was wrapped around him, and in the pleasant haze of Yang, he hadn’t noticed the woman nuzzling her head against his back.

“P- Pyr?”

“We love you, Jaune,” Yang answered, so, so sweetly, “Both of us.”

“You made me a Myrmidon,” Pyrrha murmured from behind him. “Raised me up from the life of an ant, freed me from the fear and mindlessness, and gave me a new life. Let me thank you by letting me serve you. In  _ all _ the ways you desire me.”

“We know you’ll make us happy, Jaune. So happy,” Yang said, now resting her head against his. “Let us make  _ you _ happy.”

As the girls pressed into them, Jaune felt like he’d lost all sense of time and space, just feeling his mind drift into a happy fog as they embraced him. But, like a light cutting through the fog, he felt something stirring inside him. Something to give him guidance, as the blood flow receded from his brain and headed southward.

His hands, he realized, had already gotten the signal, slipping around Yang’s hips and grabbing firmly onto her butt. She moaned, “Oh,  _ yessssss _ ,” as he started to knead his fingers into soft skin, “it feels  _ so _ good. Feels-”

He silenced her with another kiss, this one forceful, domineering. She melted beneath him, as he felt Pyrrha’s hands drift lower, swiftly unbuttoning his trousers and slipping them off. Helpful, he thought, admiring her subtle efficiency before directing all of his attention back to the girl squirming under his lips.

He broke the kiss, looking down at her parted lips and her eyes, slowly opening, looking at him with pure need. He untied the apron, as Pyrrha pulled his shirt off. Once the shirt was gone, so was the apron, disappearing in the moment the shirt was over his eyes.

She was standing there… She was naked. She was gorgeous. She was… his.

It took very little prompting for Jaune to decide what to do next. 

He swept her into his arms as she  _ slammed _ her onto the table, sending the plate settings scattering as he shoved the giggling girl in place beneath him. Something inside him had woken up, and it wasn’t going back to sleep. Something that  _ needed _ to clasp those breasts in his hands, to kiss and nip and suckle them like every averted glance, every repressed desire, every  _ wet dream _ he had to  _ pretend _ never, ever, ever happened had to be answered for. But under his assault, Yang was delirious with joy. “Yes!” she cried, “Take me, Jaune! Take me like I’m- OH!”

Patience wasn’t a thing for Jaune, not tonight. He mounted her on the kitchen table, slamming into her again and again. It was artless and crude and done without hardly the slightest thought for Yang’s pleasure. Not that she cared. She cried out in ecstasy, again and again, delighting in his attention, in his pleasure, as much as the rough fucking her crush was now giving her. Jaune felt an incredible surge of power as he looked into those lilac eyes, wild with desire and joy and squealing on a wave of orgasmic pleasure.

He couldn’t take it any longer as he  _ came _ with a sudden thrust that felt like his whole body was rocked by it. Ohhh, and then a sudden wave of exhausted crashed down on him as he crumpled into Yang, resting his face against her heavenly bosom. It was like his mind had realized it had unleashed over a decades worth of desire, and it took all the energy out of him. Yang cooed, happily, stroking his hair and whispering sweet nothings into his ears.

Either a few minutes or several years later, it felt like the fog started to lift, and he realized, first, what he’d done, and second, that he’d done it all while Pyrrha watched. She stood to the side, patient and attentive, looking like she was just delighted for the both of them as she ladelled stew into bowls for them.

“Jaunnnnne...” Yang moaned from beneath him, “Pyrrha… Pyrrha wants it, too.”

“I serve however you desire,” she said, but Jaune could read from the rosy blush on her cheeks that she had her own desires as well. “But you’ll need your strength Master,” she added, presenting a bowlful of hearty stew, smelling so delicious and desirable, the steam rising up to those wonderful, heavenly breasts dangling over them. “Eat up! I anticipate that we’ll be going  _ all night.” _

She placed the bowl in front of him. Yang moved from the table to give him a back massage (with the occasional  _ press _ of her big, perfect boobs around his head), while Pyrrha eagerly scampered under the table. Jaune opened his mouth and slid a big spoonful of rich, hearty stew into his mouth as Pyrrha opened her mouth and slid a...  _ Oh! _

And as he ate and savored the stew, Pyrrha kissed and licked and sucked with the enthusiasm and expertise and softness of a… sort of woman Jaune had never really consorted with. He had pushed the limits of alchemical science past one of the field’s most legendary practitioners and it had created something beyond even his  _ wildest _ dreams. He had expected a defender for his town, something to ensure everyone’s safety and… and to make sure Yang was safe. To make sure she never had to go through a night where he didn’t know if he’d be able to save her.

He didn’t at all think it would end with two beautiful, very enthusiastic, women completely naked in his kitchen. And he couldn’t have possibly imagined that there’d be a delicious meal on the table ready, because they were just so insistent that he eat up to ensure he had the strength to match their obviously charged libidos. 

And he was very excited to figure out how literally they meant when they said “go all night!”

* * *

Throwing back the first drink of the night, Yang was impressed how much…  _ more _ it tasted. She was far more sensitive to the subtle tastes and reactions, the yeast, the alcohol, the sugars… it didn’t taste better or worse, just  _ more _ . As she set her drink down, she looked around the table, where her fellow guardsmen were all seated. And all looking at her forehead.

“So,” she said, her usual swagger in place, “I’m guessing you guys are curious about  _ these? _ ” She gave her antennae a little waggle, enjoying how much she could taste in the air.

“...yeah,” Arslan finally spoke up. “Is that… permanent?”

“Damn straight they are,” she said with pride. “These things are  _ awesome. _ ”

Sun looked at them nervously. “So are you a Faunus? Is that something that can… happen?” 

“Nah,” she sighed, “Alchemical accident. I was drunk, went over to Jaune’s, got in a fight-” she ignored Neptune’s “That’s the captain all right!” and kept talking, “-with Pyrrha, who, uh, well… she kicked my ass.”

There was a murmur of surprise from the group, and it made Yang’s heart feel warm to hear it. She was easily the best fighter of the group, and she was famously good in hand-to-hand combat, even better than Arslan. They’d heard about Pyrrha, and they’d heard she was an extraordinarily, even supernaturally, skilled warrior, but they really had no idea how good she was.

“Yep, the Myrmidon lives up to the legend. And now,” she said with a smug smile, “ _ I  _ live up to that legend. I spent this morning sparring with Pyrrha, and,” she flexed her bicep for emphasis, “I’m not only stronger than ever, now, I feel like I just don’t get tired! We sparred for  _ hours _ and I barely even felt it!” That wasn’t, of course, all she’d done to test her new stamina. She and Pyrrha and Jaune had gone at it for  _ hours _ , utterly exhausting Jaune, but he certainly wasn’t complaining.

It felt so good to think of Jaune and to know she belonged to him now. It was more like a realization than a change, really. He had captured her heart so long ago, and now he had the rest of her, and she felt so wonderful and purposeful as she simply  _ knew _ that her place was with him. 

“You gonna turn us all into ants?” Sun asked with a chuckle.

“Nah,” she waved them off, “only girls make soldier ants. Boy ants are just drones, all they’re good for is breeding.”

“So you’re gonna turn  _ me _ into an ant, right?” Neptune chimed in, to the laughter of the table.

She stuck out her tongue at him. “We only want the good males for our colony,” she teased, though it was more true than they probably suspected. And there was only one man, her thighs subtly rubbed together, good enough for her and Pyrrha.

“Oh! I almost forgot, I got  _ these  _ things!” she pointed up to her antennae, ”And they’re  _ crazy.  _ For instance...” she waggled them slightly, savoring the taste of the air, the faint chemical signals that she now knew how to read, and then she slapped the table with a laugh. “Neptune! Damn, man, for once, you’re not all talk! You actually got laid this morning!”

Neptune’s face broke out into a roguish grin. “Well I’ll be damned, you’re right,” he marveled. “How did you- can you tell who?”

She shook her head. “Nah, maybe if it was sooner or if I knew the girl well enough—or guy; I’ve always wondered if you and Sun were ever gonna-” she was cut off by everyone’s laughter as a grinning Sun and Neptune wrapped their arms on the other’s shoulder.

But there was another taste in the air, though, one that Yang very much savored as she traced it back to Arslan. Her senses were easily able to interpret it: sexual frustration.  _ Somebody _ had been needing to get laid, and for a while now, judging from the scent, and Yang saw an opportunity just as Pyrrha had explained to her. She decided to give her new abilities a try, releasing a burst of arousal and “Follow me!” pheromones, enjoying how the girl’s nose seemed to twitch and eyes get a little wider as she smelled it. Pyrrha relied on subtle, physical contact, but subtlety… that just wasn’t  _ Yang. _

Though it looked like playing with Arslan would have to be delayed for a bit, as a group of strangers burst into the inn. “Barkeep!” the lead, a girl with purple hair and a long, blue jacket, “whatever you got that’s stronger than what you’re serving to everyone else!” and then they seemed to just collapse, exhausted, into the seats around a table.

Possible trouble—they looked like mercenaries. Lord Winchester’s campaign against the White Fang, as ill-conceived as it was, paid gold as good as anyone else’s, and that had brought scores of mercenaries to their land. This bunch seemed a little more ragged than usual, a little better equipped, and a little more in need of a “personal welcome.” She signalled to her crew that she’d handle this one, and got up. Though not before tracing a little bit more arousal pheromones right into Arslan’s skin.

“Hey there!” she said, cheerfully, “You with the Lord’s Expedition? Though you were all-”

“ _ Were, _ ” one of the mercenaries, a redhead, responded with, bitterly, “We ain’t with that  _ idiot _ no more.”

“They don’t need to hear about this...” her blond friend in a green cloak responded.

“They’re gonna learn soon enough! There’s-”

“Octavia.” It wasn’t shouted, barely even in a raised voice, but it had all the force needed to silence her. Seemed purple-hair was the leader, and an experienced one at that. She looked up to Yang. “I take it you’re with the town guard?”

“Captain Xiao Long. If you’re looking for work, I’m not sure we’ve got much.”

She sighed. “Nebula Violette. Captain of The Indigo Banner,” Yang thought that sounded at least a little familiar. Glancing around, they seemed to be well-equipped enough to be someone notable. “And we’ve got bad news for your town. We aren’t here to start a panic, but if you’re the captain… There is no Lord’s Expedition, not no more. White Fang ambush, wiped out most of the Lord Winchester’s forces and now we’re not sure who’s still around to pay us, so we split.”

Yang paled as she tried to take in the enormity of that statement. She sat down at the table and lowered her voice. “How far’s the Fang?”

Nebula shrugged. “Not far. Couldn’t tell you what direction they’re moving in, but we’ll be looking for work here. Like I said, I don’t want to cause a panic, so if you could get us to those who might be looking to travel and need some guards on the road...”

Of course. And if Yang didn’t help them find high-paying clients, they’d go about finding them in a way that  _ would _ cause a panic. Yang respected Nebula—she appreciated the skills of a good battlefield commander, but Nebula was a businesswoman first and foremost. And her business put her right in Yang’s path. Right in  _ Jaune’s _ path.

She had to act. Jaune would understand. She released a cloud of pheromones, and watched as the girls, already exhausted, were caught utterly unprepared for the wave of calm that came over them. Easy targets, she thought with a stifled snicker. Pyrrha had to wrestle her into submission, but these mercenaries weren’t even thinking that they had anything to fight against. They might have just written it off as the effect of a long-awaited stiff drink at the end of a very hard day.

But this part would be a lot more than a stiff drink. “Of course you girls don’t want to cause a panic, and we so  _ appreciate _ that you’re willing to do that for us,” she purred, as she switched the scent. Obedience, compliance, and agreeability would soon seem  _ very _ important to these girls as they nodded. Her words built up the thoughts her scent set up. They liked being appreciated. They liked doing things for Yang.

The redhead, the one who had been so firey just a moment ago was now murmuring, “Don’ wanna… cause a panic.” Silly girls. She could already see their eyes glaze over, the pleasant scent making their tired minds unable to focus on anything but soft, pleasant, happy thoughts now, and… well, Yang couldn’t resist putting a  _ little _ bit of arousal in there, smiling to watch as their mouths opened in contented sighs.

“Say,” she started with a cheerful, breathy tone, “if we’re about to be facing some trouble, I would think the town could use some hired help, to supplement our ranks. Doesn’t that sound great!” They all nodded at that, even though it wasn’t at all what they had come for. They couldn’t do anything else, really. “So how about you come with me and we’ll find a place for you. Someplace where you can really make use of your talents...”

Unlike Pyrrha, Yang wasn’t born an ant and didn’t have her inborn ant instincts. But she did have clear instruction to expand the swarm, and in the defense of Jaune and his home, these four would do nicely. But, as she gave a quick order to Sun and Arslan that it was time for business, and to start getting ready to maintain an orderly calm as necessary, she looked back to the girls, their once boisterous and crass mercenary attitudes had been replaced by something more sedate and… feminine. Something she felt Jaune would very much enjoy, as she herded them back to Pyrrha for “further instructions.”

* * *

The moon loomed large and bright over the small home at the edge of town. Though she had other duties tonight, and couldn’t be allowed to be distracted from her vigil, the pale moonlight seemed to transfix the girl in bronze armor. She had never seen the moon before. Two days ago, her eyes were too weak to know more than light and dark, and never knew there was a pure white orb that hung in the sky above her, casting a silvery glow upon the world.

She chastised herself for her fancies. She had Duty, and that was all that mattered to her. And her distraction almost kept her from noticing the group approaching. Five in number, though once she picked up Yang’s scent, she knew it wasn’t a danger. But once the concern dissipated, curiosity rose in its place. She went out to greet her sister, admiring how her golden hair seemed to glow so beautifully in the moonlight.

“Pyrrha,” she said, her voice tight and clipped, “We might have trouble coming.”

“Trouble?” She tensed, all thoughts of the moon banished. She was formed a warrior without equal, but from Yang’s tone of voice and the subtle messages of her pheromones, it was the kind of trouble two women, even Myrmidons, would be hard pressed to manage on their own.

Yang confirmed it. “Soldiers. War. The local lord’s forces have been routed, and soon, the White Fang will be upon us. These four,” she gestured towards the women accompanying her, their soft faces clearly lost in a pleasurable haze of pheromones. Yang certainly didn’t do things by half measures, she thought with a smile. “I’ve been giving them a full explanation of what they want on the way here. But before that they were mercenaries who broke from the main force, looking to be hired to escort people out of the village-”

Her eyes narrowed. “We stay. We were ordered to protect Master’s home, and we will protect it!”

“We will! I just… we’ll need more  _ forces _ to do that, you know?”

And then Pyrrha understood Yang’s implications. She strode up to the girls, assessing them. They seemed strong. Definitely fighters. “You,” she said, stroking the purple-haired girl’s chin and enjoying the way she sighed as her own pheromones made contact with her skin, “what’s your name?” 

“Nebula,” she murmured as she rubbed her cheek against Pyrrha’s palm. Yang had certainly done a number on these four, hadn’t she? She could still smell the  _ cloud _ of pheromones Yang has doused them in.

“Nebula, would you like to be a Myrmidon warrior?”

“Ohhhh… whatever you  _ waaaaant, _ ” she sighed, and her fellows nodded pleasantly at the thought. She looked over to Yang with a teasing smile. Subtlety was not a word in her sister’s vocabulary, certainly not when in comparison to “overwhelming force.” But, she reminded herself, this was a matter for subtlety. She worried that Master might feel some anxiety taking these girls into his service—she remembered the way he looked at her when he first saw Yang in the kitchen, that look of fear,  _ revulsion _ , the sense that she was a monster. She had felt so awful in that moment for putting him through that and she had resolved that she would  _ never _ let him feel like he’d made a mistake in bringing her into the world.

But she could fix this. She traced her fingers over her future sister’s skin, enjoying the way her body seemed to tremble at her touch, and she worked in a subtle message of pheromones and instructions, making Nebula more alert and awake as she quickly whispered instructions to her very well opened mind.

And just in time—she could sense Master approaching. As he opened the door he was about to shout a greeting to Yang on her return, but the words died in his voice as he saw the other four girls.

But while he was trying to find words, Yang was quick to head over and give him a long kiss. “I’d love to tell you that I’ve been recruiting girls for your harem, but we have real trouble. Here,” he gestured towards Nebula, “is a mercenary captain, and she’s got news.”

Time to see how Nebula performed… “Er… yes sir! Captain Nebula Violette, of the band The Indigo Banner. Previously in the employ of the Lord’s Expedition against the White Fang.” Master paled at that, realizing the only place this conversation could be going. But it was a good sign that his attention would be elsewhere, and Pyrrha was very happy with how well Nebula played her role. “Lord Winchester’s forces were destroyed, White Fang expected to approach this village soon—but Captain Xiao Long said you have an alternative option for us?”

“An… option?” He looked at them quizzically, until he realized how Pyrrha and Yang bounced their antennae at him, flirtatiously. “W-wait, you mean, you want-”

Nebula nodded. Good girl, she was playing her part beautifully. “There isn’t much time Ma- Mr. Arc,” fortunately, Master didn’t notice the slip, “if you have the ability to give us the same power as you gave Captain Xiao Long, we might have a chance to protect the town. My girls and I,” she gestured to the rest of her band, and Pyrrha momentarily cringed to remember that they were still lost in the pheromone haze, “are quite interested in the opportunity to pursue superior martial skill, as you granted to Captain Xiao Long.”

Master, fortunately, seemed to be thinking more about the imminent invasion than any odd behavior from the women in front of him. “It’s… not that simple. I’m out of the potion and it’s a complicated… wait, hold on a second…” and then he was lost in thought. She glanced over to Yang who waved it off with a gesture that suggested that this was a not-uncommon behavior of their Master. “Yes, yes, I have it! I’m going to need to make use of my new… oh! And Pyr!” She felt her eyes light up at the sound of her nickname, “I think I can use you as an alchemical matrix for… and we can… yes, that just might work!”

And then he grabbed her by the arm, and pulled her with him to the lab. She already had a few ideas how her unique alchemical biology could make herself useful to the process of turning humans into Myrmidons, and she couldn’t be happier to hear that Master had the same inclinations as she did! It would be a simpler formula, no longer needing to turn a tiny ant into a whole person, and that would mean they could mass produce it. Four doses would be simple enough, so they might as well make a batch for twenty… or two hundred.

Oh, she couldn’t wait until Master could enjoy all of her new sisters!


	3. Venturing Forth

They marched in double ranks, Yang and Nebula at the front, Pyrrha taking the rear, their antennae bobbing and sweeping as they scanned the treacherous path ahead of them. The girls of the Indigo Banner had adapted quickly to their new role—they had less independence than Yang, particularly the girls other than Nebula, but they retained their individual personalities, which Yang was quite happy with. They were just now wholly united behind their leader, who was driven by a need to serve and follow Jaune’s orders, as they should be. 

But in the field, she was more grateful for their antennae than for their obedience. They had superior senses and abilities over any human, likely better than most Faunus, but still: this wasn’t some pack of hooligans. This was the Branwen Gang. And this was their home turf. Even though it was Yang’s idea, as a good first move to establish security and drive them out before they saw the opportunity that came with an imminent invasion, she was wary that this might be a considerable challenge, even for them. But then-

A crossbow bolt. Yang had no more heard the sound of the crossbow string loosing than she saw Nebula’s shield before her, and the sound of the bolt ricocheting off. In one movement, the six girls snapped into formation; shields up, spears out. She could sense their attackers, feeling the vibrations of the dirt and the scent in the air—they’d gotten the jump on them, but they hadn’t been able to get into formation just yet. An even start, she thought, as she and her sisters set upon the bandits.

They communicated by secret scents and subtle cues, moving in unison as though they weren’t six fighters, but a _swarm_ , a team of Myrmidons that even the disciplined Branwen clan couldn’t stand against. She was her sister’s shield and her shield was her sister’s. With spear and sword, they fought their way through the bandits, tireless, fearless, and with strength to break through any of their defenses.

Of course, it wasn’t the bandits they needed to worry about.

She smashed into their lines, her long, curved sword, of Mistralian style, flashing about her. Her red eyes glowed in the dark, and even the strength of the Myrmidons was pressed against her. There wasn’t a warrior like Raven. Yang had long known that a direct assault against her bandits was folly, that she was best handled by maneuvering her rather than confronting her. But now Yang wasn’t what she used to be. And Raven had never known Pyrrha.

With a silent command, the Indigo Banner broke to fight her bandits with Yang while Pyrrha switched from spear to sword, dueling the bandit queen. They danced, swords flashing in the torchlight, as Pyrrha proved herself to be Raven’s equal with a sword.

No, not equal. _Better_. Driven back from Pyrrha’s assault, Raven was forced backwards. Forced to rely on Vernal, her aggravating little lieutenant’s, help to manage against the Myrmidon. Yang was busy forcing the rest of the clan from assisting, but even against the two, Yang knew Pyrrha was the better fighter.

With a slash that sent Vernal fleeing in a panic, Pyrrha now had Raven on the ropes, until she did something Yang didn’t even know was possible.

She could smell the trace of ozone, of the air itself burning, in the instant before the flash. She had heard the legends, that her mother was the witch of the woods, that she could fly and change shape and hex people, but she’d always written it off as rumor, probably started by Raven herself. But when she called down the bolt of lightning, the white light bright enough to stop time, Yang knew that she _was_ a witch.

Pyrrha staggered, the lightning blooming against her breast plate, her face frozen in the instantaneous moment, just as Yang was, frozen in a look of shock.

And then the _Boom!_

The explosion of sound deafened her, the _force_ of it enough to knock Nebula off her feet. Even Raven’s own bandits were sent scattering.

Yang felt rage boil in her chest, knowing that Pyrrha, that _Jaune’s_ Pyrrha had been cut down by this horrid _monster_ , hardly fit to be called mother, her tainted blood coursing through her veins. She flung herself at Raven, the hated bandit _laughing,_ sword drawn, clashing, swinging, deflecting, backstepping, and then-

Another sword swung in, blocking Raven’s with a mighty _clang._ She knew that sword. The sword of a true Myrmidon, of a woman who could take a lightning bolt to the chest and keep swinging, the sword of her sworn sister.

Raven’s face was a mix of shock, horror… and fear.

Yang saw her chance.

With a mighty swing of her shield, she caught Raven off guard, the blow striking her in the head as she crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

* * *

The bandits had scattered even before their leader fell. With a silent command, she had ordered Nebula and Octavia to take Raven with them, back to Jaune’s workshop. It was the best place for what they had planned next.

Gwen and Dew set to attaching leather restraints to a table—something about the Myrmidon transformation had given them an innate understanding of carpentry and construction, which Yang thought would prove useful soon enough—while Pyrrha gave Jaune an update on the situation. Well, a partial update. He didn’t yet need to concern himself with Raven. This was Yang’s problem, a family matter, and so Yang would resolve it.

As they bound her, and Yang double checked that the restraints were strong enough even for Myrmidon strength, Pyrrha rushed over with some kind of paste. In response to Yang’s questioning look, she answered, “It’s a gripleaf salve; Master prepared some for research, but it will drain the mana from a witch and keep her from casting.” She smeared a generous portion on Raven’s chest, the green goop helping to illustrate where Yang’s genes came from. She felt her mouth water a little at the sight of that cleavage, those breasts that had been denied to her when she was an infant, but now...

But the cool touch of the salve seemed to awaken Raven. “Wha… oh. Heh,” she gave a rough, pained laugh. “Seems you finally had strength enough to bring me down. Guess you, _urgh_ ,” she seemed to struggle for a moment, though not against the bonds. “Gripleaf,” she cursed.

Pyrrha moved to stand beside her. “My apologies, Chief Branwen, but having taken _one_ lightning bolt, I’m not exactly looking for another.”

Raven looked at her, a snarl of contempt on her face. “Never seen you before, Faunus, but you’re gonna have to- have to,” she seemed to stumble on her words.

“Is something _wrong?_ ” Pyrrha asked, smugly.

“Y-you’re d-doing something...” Raven said, struggling through her concussion and the effects of the pheromones. “Messing with my head...” a note of panic crept into her voice, only to be quashed by fury, “Y-you think you can break me? Heh, you might be… _urgh,_ something that ain’t human, but Yang could have warned you: I don’t go _easy._ ”

It was impressive that she’d been able to resist the pheromones. Six Myrmidons and a concussion evidently weren’t enough to keep Raven Branwen from realizing that something was altering her state of consciousness. But as Octavia and Nebula gagged her and Gwen and Dew set to getting her ready, Yang and Pyrrha could step away to discuss their plans.

“She’s not lying; she’s tough,” Yang offered.

Pyrrha smiled at that. “She’ll make a lovely Myrmidon once she’s seen the light, though.”

“Yeah...” Yang said, awkwardly kicking the dirt.

Pyrrha suddenly hugged her. “There’s something concerning you,” she asked. “It’s not good for you to isolate yourself—let your sister help you.”

Yang smiled a little as she returned the hug, enjoying the intimate scents exchanged between them. “Yeah… she’s my mother.” Pyrrha gave her a raised eyebrow. “Not a good mother, but mine. I… never really got past the fact she left right after I was born.”

Pyrrha gave her a sorrowful look. “I’m so sorry, I’m- _urk!_ ” she winced, and Yang caught her.

“Pyrrha!” she cried, as softly as she could, while she held her sister in her arms. She cursed, “I should have known after a hit like- You need to rest, now.”

“I’m not that injured, there’s still-”

“No!” Now it was Yang’s turn to offer support Pyrrha. “We’re building a swarm so you don’t have to do everything yourself. You need to rest, to recover. After all,” she added, a little teasing in her voice, “what did you say about isolating yourself?”

Pyrrha looked up at her, a weak smile on her face, but she acquiesced to her demands as Yang led her back to Jaune’s bedroom.

* * *

She had expected imprisonment. She had expected threats, perhaps even torture. She had even expected to be drugged, to have that alchemist boy her daughter had been infatuated with brew a truth serum for her. Those were manageable; she could prepare for that.

She hadn’t been prepared for how _horny_ she was.

Her skin was on fire, and even the slightest breeze, not to mention someone’s _touch_ , against her engorged nipples or soaked pussy set her into paroxysms of desire. Even that awful salve smeared across her chest, the one that sapped her powers, made her aroused. And the constant sight of gorgeous naked women, even if one of them were her own _daughter_ , was making her more aroused and needier than she’d ever been before.

No, not her daughter. That _thing_ wasn’t her daughter, not anymore. She’d been twisted into something else, those freakish antennae as proof that she’d been warped and deformed, just like her mind had been turned. She was infected by the ant woman, Raven knew that for a fact.

She knew it because she could feel that same infection inside her. 

The redhead, the one who took a lightning bolt to the chest and _still survived_ was stroking her fingers up and down Raven’s arm, and something inside her wanted nothing more than to suckle and worship those wonderful fingers. To kneel and serve and eagerly pleasure her in any way she desired. To feel those fingers elsewhere and to come and come and come her mind away-

She needed to focus. It was an... unorthodox strategy, to be sure. But Raven Branwen would not be broken by drugs or manipulations. She was a witch and a warrior and a Branwen. She would _not_ be broken.

She looked to the redhead. “You fought well,” she said, cooly, “Are you the one who has enslaved my daughter?”

But the girl didn’t take the bait. She merely stroked her cheek with her hand—however they were drugging her, it had something to do with skin contact, and this contact was _brutal_ —and smiled at her. “Yang used to be lonely and jealous and unhappy. She feared _rejection_ and _abandonment_ ,” even if it was coming from an abomination, those words still hit home, “and feared to open herself up to love. And now… she is my sister. My beloved sister, and we share in our Master’s love.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d heard word of a “Master.” Judging from the workshop they were in, the alchemical devices scattered around and the well-stocked reagent library, it had to be that idiot boy Yang had foolishly tied herself to as a little girl—well, that, or they’d killed him and taken his home. But he would probably know how to drug girls into hot, mindless obedience- no! She grit her teeth, throwing off the impure thought, the icy touch of _weakness_.

She turned to anger. “Justify it how you will,” she hissed through clenched teeth, “you changed her, and you know it. You know what you did to her and you know she didn’t become _this_ willingly.”

The girl merely looked at her with what Raven recognized as that hated _compassion._ The pity the weak shared for one another. “Human life is frightening, confusing, and lonely. You’re all so isolated, so _afraid_. I was afraid, in my past life,” and Raven was wary at what she meant by that, “the terror of looming death and desperate need. And when I lifted up to become a Myrmidon, I was freed from that fear, only to discover humans have their own, helpless fears. Being too afraid to love that you cannot even accept your own daughter,” Raven growled at that word, but then she felt a surge of disorientation that made it hard to fight back as the girl stared into her eye. “I feel sad for you, Raven Branwen. To be so ruled by fear that you cannot accept the rule of love.”

“This- isn’t- love!” she spat.

But the way the girl looked, that sad, sympathetic look (and the way it _tugged_ at the yearning in her heart), filled Raven with a sense of deep dread. “You’ll understand. We’re not here to break you, Raven. Master freed me from the constant terror of being an ant. We _will_ free you from your fear of weakness; the fear that nearly cost you your daughter.”

Raven snarled wordlessly in response, but Pyrrha merely continued to stroke her face and run her fingers through her hair. She would never break. She would _never_ give in!

But the voice in her mind was singing, crying out in pleasure at the prospect of being turned, of becoming like Yang. That voice was getting stronger, as Raven’s hold on her own mind diminished. The other Raven, the corrupt, infected Raven was poised to unseat her from her own body and mind, to _break_ her, and Raven knew what she’d become once that Raven took over.

A good little ant slut for Master.

She just wished it didn’t turn her on so much to imagine it.

* * *

Yang practically skipped to the workshop. The girls of the Indigo Banner were proving to be excellent allies. Introducing them to the town had been… tricky, but Nebula was an excellent speaker, and their swift victory over the Branwen bandits (even if nobody knew just _how_ victorious they had been, not just yet) had done a lot to reassure the town. Besides, with rumors of the White Fang’s imminent invasion, of rampaging Faunus barbarians and wild claims of depraved pillaging, most people seemed willing to overlook the strangeness of women turned to ant warriors when they were the ones constructing new defensive fortifications and routinely drilling in the town square.

Nebula was overseeing more construction at present. She had been the leader of their little band of mercenaries and now she was Yang’s lieutenant in directing them now. Octavia and Gwen were reinforcing the town’s walls, while Dew… Well, with Yang and Pyrrha so busy, right now, she was taking good care of Jaune. He seemed to be enjoying himself quite a bit, though maybe Jaune just liked blondes, she thought with a giggle. He certainly hadn’t expected a side effect of the Myrmidon transformation be turning warrior women into his bubbly little fuckdolls, but when a Myrmidon could see where her Master’s desires lay with her, well, she couldn’t help but obey!

And that thought was an excellent one to accompany her entrance into the workshop, where the one-time bandit queen and total bitch of a mom was lying on a table, making excellent progress! She was barely even restrained and no longer even required the salve. It brought a wicked grin to Yang’s face to see how the fight had finally gone out of her, and the once-terrifying Raven Branwen was reduced to just a puppet of the pheromones that lay heavy in the air. She was mumbling something incoherent, her tongue lolling out of her mouth. Her hips rolled as she ground her pussy against Pyrrha’s face. There wasn’t a thought in her head except being _horny_.

Yang grinned, “She doesn’t have much left, does she?”

“No, Yang, she doesn’t” Pyrrha said with a note of pride, looking up from between Raven’s legs. Her face was smeared with her juices, and Yang felt so depraved as she licked it off Pyrrha’s face. The way her mother moaned and whined from the interruption made it even _better._ “Care to do the honors?”

Yang looked over at her mother, her sweaty, pale face framed by her lush black hair. Her eyes, once so red and piercing, were glassy as she panted on the table. Oh yes, she wanted the honors. Payback for years of neglect and contempt? She was going to enjoy this!

She got up on the table, crawling over the needy little slut until she could sit on her face. Her thighs clamped around her mother’s head, and Yang gave a happy _gasp_ as she felt a tongue quickly, automatically get to work. If she knew she was eating out her daughter or not, Yang didn’t know, but in her state, she probably just didn’t _care._ And then she felt the soft breeze of Raven inhaling through her nose, desperate to get more of the scent of Yang’s rich pheromones, full of compulsions to follow, to serve, to obey.

“You were always a terrible mother, but at least _this_ way,” she sneered, “you’re actually making someone _happy._ “

She wasn’t sure if Raven was in a state that could make sense of words, but her pace picked up and Yang _loved_ the way she so desperately lapped at her clit. Now, Raven was the one desperate for affection and acknowledgement, and Yang felt _powerful._

“Oh, _mmm_ , I finally found— _uhn_ , yeah, like that!—found a way for us to be one big happy family! How do you feel about being my Master’s personal bimbo fucktoy MILF?” The frantic eagerness of Raven’s tongue made a wonderful _yes._ She glanced behind her, to see Pyrrha teasing her mother’s slit, “Ooh, she seems to like that idea!”

Pyrrha smiled. “Are you suggesting…?”

“We reward her? How about you let her _come?_ ”

She felt as Raven’s tonguing became frantic and incoherent, before it collapsed into a great, passionate _moan_ right into Yang’s muff. Yang got off the table and helped untie her mother from her bonds. She looked so helpless and delicious lying there, just waiting for her own pair of antennae!

She sensed a change in the pheromones in the air, scents for alertness and attention, but Yang dissuaded her with a shake of her head. She had a better way, she thought, grabbing a bucket of water she had for this exact purpose, and then splashing it in her face.

Raven recoiled from the cold water soaking her and looked up, alert and fearful. Yang grinned.   
“Are you ready to learn what you’re going to do?” she teased.

“Y-yes,” she stammered. “W-whatever you want, M-Mistress.” She sounded nothing like the terrifying bandit queen. Nothing like her horrid bitch of a mother. She sounded like a scared little girl, which gave Yang a very enjoyable idea.

“Who are you?”

“N-no one, Mistress,” she answered, broken and terrified, “I-I’m whatever you want me to be.”

She smiled as Pyrrha began rubbing Raven’s temples, flooding her mind with arousal. It was time to set the ground rules. “You’re going to apologize for every horrible thing you said about Pyrrha and your Master.”

“I’m sorry!” she cried, “I’m sorry I was a stupid, stupid girl who thought she knew everything! I’m sorry I disrespected my betters and forgot my place! I’m so, so _sorry!”_

“You were a stupid twat who thought she could run a bandit clan when you couldn’t even keep your own mind!” said Yang, realizing that her mother was becoming more and more turned on with every piece of abuse she had for her.

“Oh, yes! You turned my mind into mush! I’m a stupid slut who deserves all of this!”

“You were a terrible mother and a total bitch,” Yang spat.

“It’s true! It’s true! Oh, I was a bitch! A bitchy, bitchy bitch!” she giggled deliriously, “But I can be nice now! And I can be a good mommy! I can make you feel so good!” she pleaded, her hips subconsciously rolling with desire.

Yang had more than a few ideas of how to test it, but she looked to Pyrrha for her perspective.

“Master will be up in a few hours,” Pyrrha suggested. “I think I know how she can get started on those apologies you mentioned...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to fureurdenuit for feedback on this chapter


	4. Reconciliation

Jaune woke up to a pleasant sensation in his nethers. Something warm, wet, and eager—but a little different than his usual wake-up call. He couldn’t place it, it wasn’t like Pyrrha or Yang, who usually took up the duty. It could have been one of the Indigo girls, but he could already tell there was a pecking order amongst his sudden harem of ant girls, and this duty, he could tell, wasn’t for them. But perhaps one had been “promoted,” he thought with a chuckle, like he was some kind of reward for good behavior.

He raised his blankets to peak down at the nest of dark hair that-

This was _not_ one of his girls!

She was older, though no less alluring, and her raven-black hair was as bountiful as Yang’s. She… looked a lot like an older Yang, actually, but most importantly, she had no antennae. _She wasn’t a Myrmidon!_

“Hiiiii,” she giggled, giving him a little wave while still laying little kisses on his cockhead. “I’m Raven!” she said proudly. “And you must be my future son-in-law, huh?”

And then it clicked.

Jaune had never met Raven Branwen. Very few still-living townsfolk had. He’d heard stories, _horrifying_ stories, and he knew it was a topic to _never_ bring up with Yang. Nothing about the mental picture he had of the fearsome bandit queen reconciled with the giggling cougar wrapping her tits around his shaft. Was, was this the surprise Pyrrha and Yang had told him was in the workshop? The reason he had to spend the last weekend just working in his library? Yang couldn’t have actually turned her own _mother_ into one of his girl, he swallowed, nervously. But… _damn_ this woman looked like an older, dark-haired Yang. If this was a glimpse of Yang’s future...

“If I could prove I was good now…” she shivered at the thought, “they told me I could be a Myrmidon, too!” and she cheerfully wrapped her breasts around his cock and _bounced_ them up and down. _Oh_ , it was too much! And as she eagerly licked up her treat, she smiled at him. “I was a mean, bitchy bandit, but now I’m a good girl. I can be,” she licked her lips, “ _such_ a good girl for you...”

As she crawled up the bed towards him, and he felt his cock stiffen back to its full hardness, he realized that this was definitely something he was into. The terrifying Raven Branwen turned to a hot, horny sex toy? Yeah, yeah, he was into this.

“Aww, I think mom likes you,” he heard Yang’s teasing voice from outside his room. Reflexive terror and adrenaline flooded his system: his girlfriend was _right there_ as her very naked, _very hot_ mother was in bed with her.

“Oh Yang,” she moaned, her pussy millimeters away from his cockhead, “Mama’s so horny, it’s been so loooooong~”

Jaune’s eyes went wide and his dick got even harder at what she was saying. And his girlfriend was encouraging this. It was still... difficult to get used to the fact that he was slowly building a harem of obedient ant girls, but he certainly hadn’t expected this!

“Please,” she whined, her face looking so… _needy_ that Jaune felt an impulse to just impale her right there. “I’m so wet! Please, please let me fuck you? Mommy needs cock!”

On that line, Jaune simply couldn’t resist anymore as he moaned and pulled the squealing older women down onto his erection. It slid right in, she was so pleasantly wet and ready for him.

Jaune considered himself a competent sexual partner, and in the past week, his sexual experience had increased exponentially, but he was finding it quite difficult to not go shooting off in an instant from this combination of morning wood, his wake up blowjob, and the sound of the bandit queen who terrorized the town now singing his praises in a high, girlish voice. And then Yang had to make it even harder…

She was now beside him, touching herself as she watched him fuck her own _mother._ “She’s so hot, isn’t she,” she said, as Jaune moaned helplessly, “now that she’s had her attitude change. You’re so much happier as Master’s pet bimbo, aren’t you?”

She squealed in delight. “I am! I am! Master’s fucking meeeeee!”

But even as she climaxed again, Jaune’s focus was on the girl beside him, looking at him with reverent, lust-clouded eyes, her voice full of depraved eagerness. “You like mommy’s pussy? You like sliding your dick in the hole I came out of?”

“Oh, Master,” Raven cried, “Please! Give Yang a new little sister! Knock me up and show everyone who owns me!”

"Gods!" he cried. Jaune couldn’t hold back. As he gasped and came, he heard mother and daughter hit their own, simultaneous climaxes. 

As Raven collapsed on top of him, the feel of her soft breasts pushing into his chest, Jaune started to realize that he was wildly unprepared for how summoning a Myrmidon would change his life. As she began to stir, his dick still inside her, she looked up at him with a silly smile.

She giggled, her eyes slowly opening, “Ohhhhh,” she moaned, “Oh, Yang, I can feel Master getting hard again!”

“Because you’ve been such a good slut for him,” Yang explained.

“ _Ohhhh,_ ” she said with a breathy coo, “Was mommy a good girl? Does she get to be a Myrmidon?”

Yang massaged his shoulders. “Well, whaddya think?” she asked, teasingly.

He looked deep into the eyes of the incredibly sexy woman who was begging to be turned into another of his ant girl harem. Her eyes, her ought-to-be-terrifying blood red eyes, shone with eager lust and desire, and Jaune really couldn’t handle it.

“I- I want… I want to see...” and yet, his mouth wouldn’t allow him to make the request, to put into reality the deep well of perversion that was lurking in his mind.

But Yang’s own well of perversion could easily exceed his. “You want to watch my mom and I make out? Want me to lick your cream out of mommy’s hot pussy?”

He nodded, frantic and wordless, unable to _believe_ what was happening here. As Yang pulled her mother into a searing kiss, Jaune felt his erection spring back into full vitality, much to Raven’s muffled pleasure. But then Yang slowly pushed Raven off of him, sprawling her backwards on the bed, and then she bent over and…

Jaune couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t fucking believe it. Yang was licking with enthusiasm, her ass swinging delectably right in front of him, as Raven gripped her daughters hair and lewdly called for him to join them. To make “one, big, happy family!” as Raven put it.

So he did. What else could he do? He took Yang from behind, hearing her moan into her mother’s pussy as she licked Raven clean, and all the while, Jaune fervently thrust into the wild minx that had somehow turned herself from his platonic best friend into his sexy ant slave girl. It wasn’t long before he was brought to another orgasm, enjoying the incestuous entanglement sprawled out before him.

It was the dirtiest, lewdest thing he’d ever done.

And _gods_ he wanted more.

* * *

She stretched her arms out and yawned, taking in the sunlight. She wasn’t used to enjoying the late morning air like this, well, she wasn’t used to _enjoying_ things. It was strange; undeniably, she had been changed. Her behaviors were, obviously, not in line with what she would have done before she’d been claimed by her daughter and her Master. Only a few hours ago, she was a sex-drunk halfwit, and the same process that turned her to that had made her what she was now. Her body was different, from the dramatic, the antennae on her head, to the subtle, like the way she no longer needed as much food, sleep, or even air as she used to.

It was strange, knowing that she could simply _breathe less_ now, and it struck her as stranger still that that wasn't what she was focused on.

Because, in all ways, she was fundamentally _different_. Altered, changed, by strange chemistries and alchemies. Twisted into a shape more pleasing for her Master. Set into a new mindset, into one of obedience and discipline… and desire.

And yet, she felt like she was still Raven. Her mind was still as sharp as her blade and she was already calculating how she’d turn her clan’s strength against the White Fang, in service to the colony. Perhaps she was pointed in a new direction, but she was still Raven. A Raven who had made different choices in her life, but still her. A happier her. A better her.

A Raven who still had her daughter in her life.

She and Yang had headed to the edge of the woods. Yang and Pyrrha had presented a mission for her when her cognition came back: return to the Branwen Clan, take back control of it as necessary, and use it to scout and harass incoming White Fang forces. She hadn’t expected this. Well, she wasn’t able to _expect_ much in her previous state, but when Yang and Pyrrha gave her so much of her old self back, well, it surprised her.

She looked over to Yang, silently walking alongside her. She seemed to have a lot on her mind, which made sense. But Raven decided to break the silence. “Could have left me as his bedwarmer, you know. You were holding all the cards there.”

“You were more useful this way,” Yang mumbled, but she’d never been a great liar. Certainly not where she was concerned.

She looked to her daughter, so much like her, her spitting image, but even more so, like her in personality. She had her mother’s pride, her stubbornness, her resilience. If she hadn’t been so foolish, if she hadn’t been so scared of those deep feelings she had when she first held her daughter… “You’re not foolin’ me here, Yang.” She didn’t respond. “You could have humiliated me in a dozen ways and gotten revenge again and again. But you didn’t want that, because… you’re not like me.” 

Yang looked at her in surprise at that, but let her continue without interrupting.

“I’d have punished an enemy to the fullest extent I could, because I, the old me, at least, lived for power and control. You, you’re not like that. Yang, I think, what you wanted is…” she took a deep breath, before she did the unthinkable. “I am _sorry,_ Yang.” she said, feeling the tears welling in her eyes, “I can never make up for what I did to you, I can never give you your childhood back, but I am so, so sorry.”

She hugged her daughter, feeling as the both of them struggled mightily not to shed a tear. Feeling as both of them failed, as they both shook and held each other and cried.

“You deserve to be happy, Yang,” she cried.

“I know, I know,” Yang sobbed into her shoulder.

“I love you, Yang. You’ve grown to be such a strong young woman, and- and-” she choked back a sob, “I am so proud of you.”

They held each other a little longer, letting the tears fall freely as Raven did all she could to make up for years of abandonment. But there was work to be done, and Duty was now a higher order for both of them.

Their goodbyes were short and curt, in contrast. They’d said what they’d needed to say, cried what they needed to cry, and they both knew a long goodbye would only be more painful.

As the last sight of Yang’s golden hair receded into the distance, Raven felt a pang of sorrow at the knowledge of how much she’d lost. It was a pain she’d always felt, ever since that first moment she was handed her perfect baby girl to hold and knew that she couldn’t both love her daughter as dearly as she felt and be the Raven Branwen she imagined herself to be.

It may have been supernatural mind control, but if it was what had finally done away with the toxic, cruel part of her that had cost her so much, Raven could consider it a fair trade. And so, the gratitude she felt for her experience was as sincere and her own as any other thoughts she’d ever had.

She shrugged, trying to refocus herself to her task as she looked out over the woods. _Her_ woods. She might have a Master now, but some things still belonged to her, she thought with a grin. And the first of those things was her clan. They’d scattered into the hills, waiting to see what would happen now that Raven Branwen had been bested. And they would learn: Raven Branwen would come back, with clear instruction on what they were supposed to do.

She supposed they might have some questions about the antennae, but she was a witch of the woods: her being bested by another and wearing her mark… that was something they’d accept. And if they didn’t, her magic was potent and her strength was even greater than before. And there were a few more things they’d learn to accept, as her grin turned cruel in anticipation. Seemed it was time for Vernal to learn a few things about her position in the clan… mmm… and then she’d come back into town, with both her daughters, one by nature, another by nurture, and she’d be sure her Master would enjoy her very, very happy family.

* * *

Pyrrha had watched as Yang and Raven, her newest sister, left the house. She knew there was a cloud over Yang as she left, but this was something she knew she couldn’t help with. There was no knowledge she had about motherhood. Her “mother” was a queen ant, who had impassively birthed thousands of young. The idea of a relationship with one’s mother was as new to her as thumbs, hair, and individual will.

So she turned her thoughts back to what she did know. Her orders to protect the home and to protect her Master. She and Yang were already devising a strategy for the protection of Beacon, and the steps necessary to expand their Myrmidon forces, so she turned instead to her Master’s well-being, finishing the final touches of a hearty breakfast.

Though she was starting to realize that she was not half the cook Yang was, Pyrrha still enjoyed the experience of cooking, of mixing so many scents and ingredients together and changing the many parts into a pleasant whole. The eggs, butter, onions, ham, peppers, and seasonings all sacrificing their individual natures as they united in the singular purpose of an omelet.

Humming a cheerful tune, she brought the omelet and a cup of coffee potion up with her to Master’s bedroom. He seemed to still be a little out of it, and she smiled, imagining how Yang and Raven had put him in this state. “Master?” she asked from the door, making a respectful bow. He looked up, and brightened, and Pyrrha’s heart _sang_. 

He sipped the dark black potion and, like magic, his eyes gained focus and he sighed in contentment. He smiled up at her as he started eating his omelet. Pyrrha blushed, knowing that she should only feel the satisfaction of having carried out her Duty, and yet, his smile… that smile made her think things that ants simply did not think.

“So…” he started, with a humorous note in his voice, “I have to assume that Raven Branwen didn’t… exactly become a Myrmidon _willingly._ ”

“Oh no, Master,” she laughed, “She was quite insistent that we make her one.”

Master gave her a bemused look. “But when you first brought her into my lab...”

Pyrrha waved off his concerns. “We did not hurt her in any way, Master. It only took some mild convincing, and she’s much, much happier as a Myrmidon. Yang’s seen to it.”

He paused for a second. “...How did you convince her?”

Pyrrha’s antennae twitched. He might not be as understanding of some of the choices they had made on his behalf. A conundrum: it was her duty that he not have to worry about their actions, but also her duty to answer his questions… But he needed to know the truth. “Pheromones. Yang and I produce scents to communicate with other Myrmidons, but with humans, certain scents can encourage… cooperation.” 

Master nodded, slowly. “Yeah, I was starting to suspect something like that...” then he looked up to her, “You’ve, uh, never used anything like that on _me,_ right?”

Pyrrha stilled at that. “Technically… when we are aroused,” and she blushed at this, “we might be… making you aroused as well.”

“I don’t think it’s the _pheromones_ that are making me aroused,” he chuckled, “so much as these beautiful women begging for my attention.”

“There will be more, Master,” she said, feeling the room fill with her arousal scent, “Yang and I, we’re building a swarm to protect you, and any woman, any woman you desire, we will claim them for you!”

Master seemed to struggle for only a moment at that thought. But a powerful image of what she was promising seemed to win out. “ _Uhn,_ yeah, yeah, I, _oh_ , yeah,” his eyes were wide as he imagined the possibilities. “I want that. I want that very much more than I don’t want that.” Then he looked up to Pyrrha, a hungry gleam in his eye. “So if I were to order you, right now, to serve me in a certain capacity...” 

She blushed, a little, at that. She was ashamed to admit, she was avoiding having to serve her Master in that role. It brought great shame to know that she could not serve her Master in her fullest capacity, but as she timidly removed her undershirt, she knew the unsightly burn left by Raven’s black magic would make her inferior to Yang or even the other girls in pleasing him.

“Y-you’re hurt!” he gasped, as she subtly turned away to minimize her injuries. And yet, he wouldn’t let her. He quickly, delicately examined the burn on her abdomen from where the lightning struck her.

“I, I am fine,” she protested, “You don’t need to worry about me, Master. It hardly even still hurts, and it certainly doesn’t impair my abilities!” Her voice rose higher than she intended, a trace of fear creeping in. She hadn’t intended to make Master worry, but she felt the old fears slink back into her mind. An ant that can’t work is not a part of the swarm. That ant had no value, no purpose. That ant was just… materials, to be disassembled and reused elsewhere. If Master thought she was weak or ill or injured, she had no more value to him. She would be left behind as her stronger sisters left her behind. She knew her face must look terrified and she knew her weakness was consuming her that she couldn’t keep her Master from realizing how weak she’d become.

But Master looked at her softly. Evidently, he heard the panic in her voice as he gently laid a hand on her. “Pyr...” he started, and Pyrrha struggled not to blush from hearing her beloved nickname, “You’re hurt.”

“I-it’s nothing!” she repeated, “Master, I can still serve you as well as-”

“Shhh,” he hushed her, and Pyrrha felt some of her fears ebb away. “I’m going to help you. I’m going to help you feel better. You can tell me about these things, Pyr, I’m here for you too. Lie down, I’ll be right back—I suppose I’m allowed back in my workshop, right?” he asked with a soft grin.

“Y-you may,” she stammered, getting on to the bed, not sure what to expect as he hurried off to his workshop.

In a little time, he raced back into the room, juggling two pots in his arms while he ground something in a mortar. “Sorry, this’ll only take- a- second...” he said, focusing on blending together some kind of white salve. “Aha! Alright, that should help!”

“What is it?” 

He dabbed his fingers into the mortar. “It’s a burn treatment. Well, post-burn treatment, something I developed because of, well, Yang’s set herself on fire more than once,” Pyrrha stifled a chuckle at that mental picture, “and, like you, she doesn’t ever admit when she’s been hurt, so I only learn about a day or two later. It helps prevent infection and promotes healing. You’ll be better in no time.”

She gasped as the cold salve made contact with her skin. “Sorry,” he chuckled, embarrassed, “it’s a little cold, yeah.” But his touch was so gentle that Pyrrha couldn’t help but look up in purest gratitude and love for the man who was treating her like she was a porcelain doll, and not his sworn protector. “I’ll get some soup ready for you, and I’ll mix in some things to promote healing, but you’ll need bedrest, and so I’m _ordering_ you,” he said it with a teasing lilt, but even still, with those words, Pyrrha knew she would follow them to the letter, “to rest and recover and _let me_ take care of you.”

He laid her down in his bed, in his own spot, making sure the pillows were fluffed and she was comfortable. He refused to let her lift a finger to help, giving her another order to allow him to pamper her. An order Pyrrha had never expected she’d ever have to obey. Then he tucked her in to bed, _his_ bed, the blanket feeling so wonderfully soft as he pulled it around her. He gave her a kiss on the forehead and Pyrrha settled into the soft mattress, almost unable to comprehend how her life could have possibly turned out so wonderfully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel the hallmark of my fics is me just slamming that bathos even when I'm writing porn :)
> 
> Thanks to fureurdenuit for, as always, their feedback on this chapter!


	5. Taking the Town

Yang leaned back into the high-backed leather chair, enjoying how nice the fine upholstery felt as she sat in it. Jaune made decent money, but his furniture was nowhere near as nice as what they had here in town hall. Hard to imagine how the Lord Mayor could have just... wandered off or whatever he did (Yang had been the one to investigate his disappearance, and her conclusion was that he basically just wanted a long vacation. He was an odd duck, that Ozpin) when his office was so nicely furnished. And, of course, she was enjoying more than just the furniture as she continued the “discussion” she was having.

“Surely, you agree that nobody’s exerting any unusual influence over the town fathers...” she said teasingly.

From between her legs, the face of Glynda Goodwitch slowly looked up. Her hair was all askew, her face smeared with Yang’s juices. And her eyes were glazed with that happy pheromone lust that Yang was finding to be a really big turn-on. Slowly, she found words again. “Nooo...” she murmured, “Course not… not… possible.”

“There’s no silly mind control,” she said, playing with the older woman’s hair, “no conspiracy, you were just… scared with all those rumors of the White Fang swirling around.”

Glynda nuzzled her thigh. “So scared… need… need to be protected...”

Yang giggled at how much easier it was to turn Glynda than Raven. She had been such a stern, stuffy schoolmarm, but now she was getting a taste of what she had missed out on, and there was a hot little harlot lying underneath her severe demeanor. “But you don’t have to be scared. You don’t have to be spreading silly rumors that I’m doing something to your leaders. Because you can be one of us. You want that, right? You want to be a cute, little ant girl just like me?”

“Yah,” she panted, “Wanna be a… happy li’l ant girl. Wanna be… jus’ like you...”

“So how about you get that sexy ass up here, and we’ll seal it with a kiss, okay?”

And Glynda got up from between her legs, her big, heavy breasts dangling so invitingly, as she got up for that kiss. Looking at how tight and flawless her skin was, Yang got the feeling that Glynda was part of Jaune’s dirty little secret. Well, his other one, the one that wasn’t the fact he was slowly turning the girls of the town into his horny harem of obedient ant girls. No, Jaune was an alchemist, and that meant that he really made his money through cosmetics. Potions and powders and creams that reversed the effects of aging, magically concealed blemishes, colored hair, and promoted… development in the right areas. Some women spent a lot of money to look how they did, and Yang was suspecting that Glynda here had spent quite a bit under the table for the services of a top-tier alchemist like Jaune.

Naughty, naughty, but Yang was learning to love what alchemy could do! She kissed and suckled on Glynda’s inviting titties, appreciating the cute, needy moans she made in response. Well, as fun as tonguing those puffy pink nipples was, she couldn’t keep her waiting all day, she figured, so it was time to pucker up and seal the deal with Glynda!

She would make such a lovely Myrmidon!

* * *

Having dealt with Glynda and the town fathers, Yang walked through the street with a cocky stride. People saluted her as she passed, and she always returned the gesture. The people of Beacon needed to see the Captain of the Town Guard out and about, reassuring them that the town would stand strong against any threats. Maintaining calm was maintaining order, and every day things remained orderly was another day that Beacon had to shore up its defenses. She had her guardsmen making more frequent patrols, with instructions to do what they could to combat any sense of panic they might encounter.

But it was the Myrmidons who made the best impression. People felt safer as they watched Dew or Gwen so swiftly construct new defensive fortifications, or watched Nebula instruct the militia on spear technique, or the way Pyrrha seemed to command everyone’s attention with her look of sheer unparalleled _ability._ Or, as Pyrrha was recovering (or “recovering,” she suspected that, right now, she was likely healed, but still curled up in bed with a big bowl of soup, being spoon fed by Jaune), Yang had stepped up into the role.

The people of Beacon were finding the Myrmidons to be a comfort, a reassurance, and, with the occasional use of pheromones to help guide their opinion or quash some rumors, something they could all aspire to. Everywhere she looked, her antennae were a sign of strength and protection, exactly as she hoped.

But she’d reached her destination, an enthusiastically decorated storefront, with many colorful advertisements and garishly painted signs, and smiled. Ruby had sure done a lot with dad’s old place. Ever since he’d passed, Ruby had thrown herself into keeping his old business alive, and, Yang had to admit, she did have a knack for it. Though nobody would have suspected it from looking at her skinny arms, her little sister was the town’s blacksmith. Well, “weaponsmith,” if you asked her, but before now, the demand for weapons didn’t even come close to nails and horseshoes, but that never stopped Ruby from lovingly crafting elaborate and finely-made weapons, often based on exotic, intricate designs, that nobody asked for, few could use, and fewer still wanted to buy.

But Yang was greatly appreciating the overstock right now, though she had to insist that Ruby accept payment from her for them, rather than just give them over to “help her big sister out.” For all her plans, she couldn't bring herself to rip her little sister off, not when she ought to be enjoying her success. Weapons were worth top dollar right now, and Ruby was sitting on a goldmine that, as badly as Yang needed the armaments for the militia and her growing contingent of Myrmidons, she didn’t want to deprive her sister of. But that would be a good reason for her and Ruby to have a little “sisterly conversation” that might go in a rather-

“Captain Xiao Long!”

Yang turned, surprised. She hadn’t expected to see Arslan today, seeing as how she was off duty. Unusual to see her in town, instead of meditating up in the mountains or whatever it was she did with her free time. She returned the salute. “I’m not used to seeing you about town on your days off, Arslan,” she said warmly, “What seems to be the matter?”

Except… Arslan _blushed,_ something Yang didn’t know her most severe guardswoman actually _could_ do. “I-it’s- I’m sorry, Captain, but it’s a… sensitive matter. Would we be able to speak at headquarters?”

This… was concerning. It could be White Fang news, but Arslan would almost certainly be businesslike about that. Which meant an internal matter. A discomforting internal matter, something where she didn’t know how she felt about it. Which could really only be on one subject. And even though Yang was quite good at quashing negative rumors about the Myrmidons, she couldn’t say she’d shut them out entirely.

She quickly led Arslan back to headquarters. Though, it was really more a storage space than a command center, where they recorded incidents and kept spare weapons and armor, with a small jail cell mostly used for the occasional disorderly drunk they had to wrangle. Not enough happened in Beacon to really justify as big a guard contingent as Yang commanded, but, she suspected, her mother’s fearsome reputation made the town fathers nervous.

In the back of the guardhouse was Yang’s private office. Rarely used, since Yang much preferred to lead from the front and hated paperwork, but it would prove useful for a conversation like this. She had thought about, once they got into the small room, simply dosing Arslan with enough pheromones to make all thoughts of disobedience just float away in a lustful haze. But her experiences with Raven had taught her that disciplined minds, especially those paying attention, were capable of realizing they were being altered. And she didn’t favor a fight with Arslan, not right now and not at headquarters. 

“So,” she leaned over her desk, hoping to look approachable and reasonable, someone her guard could talk to, “what do you want to talk about?”

“I...” she hesitated, “I’ll be honest, I figured you’d have acted on me, by now.”

Yang leaned back into her chair, confused. “I’m… sorry?”

“I mean,” Arslan laughed, “I’m clearly on to you and could be about to expose you and now you’ve got me, all by myself, in a small room… helpless...” Yang’s mouth dropped. Arslan shifted nervously. “I thought you’d… you know… do to me whatever it was you did to those girls.”

She blushed, and Yang wondered if she’d ever seen her most severe subordinate ever look so… soft. She licked her lips as she tasted the scent of Arslan’s desire. “You mean to tell me,” she said, leaning over the desk, letting her pheromones convey her real message, “you _want_ to be a Myrmidon… or that you want to be brainwashed?”

Arslan sighed pleasantly as she inhaled Yang’s scent. “I want...” her voice was now dreamy and unfocused, “I want _you,_ Captain...”

Well.

That was a surprise.

“H-how long has this been-”

“Since I met you,” Arslan rested her elbows on the table and cradled her head in her hands, “You’re so _strong,_ Captain, and I just wanted to be like you. Tried everything… to be like you...” she sighed, “and you’re so pretty, Captain... so... pretty.”

Yang blushed at the compliment. She’d… never realized that Arslan had feelings for her, not like that. She was always the strictest ascetic of the guard, and, yeah, she certainly wasn’t _celibate,_ since she and Sun apparently had a history, but she’d never seemed… into Yang. She cleared her throat, hoping, in vain, it would also clear her head. “So… what do you know? I mean, about… the Myrmidons.”

Arslan gave a smile. “Enough. The Indigo Banner… they’d been changed, somehow. Their loyalty is… out of character. And then I could just put all the pieces together. I know Jaune’s been… controlling you all somehow… using the girl.”

Well… she wasn’t _wrong._ Even if Yang was very happy in her current arrangement under Pyrrha and Jaune’s control, that wasn’t what Arslan was asking about. “And you’re… okay with this?”

“No...” she sighed, “but you are. Even if I broke you free… you’d go back to him, wouldn’t you?” Arslan giggled at that, a surprisingly girlish gesture from Yang’s toughest guard. But it was true, wasn’t it? Even if there was a way to undo the Myrmidon treatment, Yang didn’t want it. She’d go right back to Jaune and Pyrrha for another dose. Arslan looked at her with heavy lidded eyes. “If I become his slave...” she drawled, “I get to be with you… right?” Yang nodded, still trying to process this, as Arslan gave a soft laugh. “Mmmm… always so jealous of him… knew I could never have you… if you had him...”

Her eyes started to tear up. Yang couldn’t sit still any longer, she rushed to the other side of her desk and pulled Arslan into a hug. The girl sniffled into her chest as Yang pulled her close. She’d never known. Never even imagined that Arslan might have hidden feelings for her. It was no different from the hidden pain of the love she carried for Jaune, and just like with Pyrrha, Arslan had watched as her beloved found another.

No. That wasn’t true. It hadn’t been true with Pyrrha. Even if Jaune had another, she still had Jaune. And even though she was Jaune’s, Arslan could still have her. She held the girl tightly, reassuring her as she rubbed her back, “It’s alright, Arslan, it’s alright.” And then she pulled away from the hug, looking her subordinate in the eyes, hers red from crying and looking at her in desperation. “That’s not true, you know...” her eyes lit up in hope, “You _can_ have me. All you have to do is-”

Arslan lunged before she could finish, lips pressing deep into hers. They kissed, a deep, passionate kiss that made Yang see stars for a second. Mmmm, she’d make such a lovely Myrmidon, _such_ a lovely sister-soldier. But she still had some work to do, she thought with a grin. The _fun_ work.

“Get undressed, sister! And that’s an order!” Yang barked.

It was an order Arslan couldn’t follow fast enough. Her clothes, a loose robe and a chest wrap, were off well before Yang could get her own clothes off… but Arslan was just so eager to help out. A very good subordinate, Yang thought, and she’d make a very nice lieutenant for the swarm.

But now undressed, Arslan’s eyes watered as she looked upon her captain’s naked chest. Well, not just her _eyes_ were watering, Yang was pleased to note, looking at her mouth and then letting her eyes drift downward. It gave her a good picture of Arslan, too, appreciating her tight, toned body that was now hers to play with. All she needed was a pair of antennae, really.

But she had plenty of time to get to that. She pulled Arslan to the floor, scissoring her legs around her partner’s and grinding her clit against hers. Arslan’s mouth opened in surprise, and Yang grinned. She knew she was good. Their limbs entangled, Yang admired the contrast between their skin. Arslan’s dark, rich brown and her own pale peach, mingled, but distinct, a picture of harmonious balance.

Well, harmony and balance were more Arslan’s thing, Yang thought, and she was more into the next part. She’d been bi before she was a Myrmidon, but Pyrrha and Nebula’s girls had done a lot to give her more practical experience with how to enjoy a woman’s body. And how to return that enjoyment as well, she thought, grinding against Arslan’s clit. She had dexterity and sensitivity greater than she’d ever had before, and so even in scissoring, she could easily find Arslan’s spots, sending her most disciplined guard into paroxysms of desire. 

“G-Gods, Captain!” she shuddered, squirming between her thighs, “I-I’m close! I’m so close!”

“Call me Yang, guardswoman!” she ordered, giving Arslan a delightful squeeze, “Call me by my name and _cum for me!”_

“Y-yes! Yes, oh, Yang, yes, I love you, Yang, I loooove-AAAAAUGH!”

Her eyes rolled up as she slumped backwards. Yang disentangled herself from her subordinate’s limbs and crawled over her, leaving a line of appreciative kisses up her naked body. Arslan was such a beautiful girl, something Yang had never sufficiently appreciated, but she paused a little, looking down on her face. Her eyes flickered open, still dazed from her powerful orgasm and Yang’s pheromones.

She kissed her lieutenant again, smiling at the foggy-eyed girl as she asked, “So… would you like to join me as a Myrmidon?”

“More’n anything in the world,” Arslan sighed.

* * *

Between Pyrrha receiving a clean bill of health and Arslan’s induction as their new Myrmidon sister, it was time for some celebration. And with an enclosed room full of Myrmidons, under Pyrrha’s direction, Yang had to marvel with how efficiently she was able to guide and shape the room to her will. Yang would have exhausted herself trying to induce such a large crowd, and probably would have set up an orgy, but under Pyrrha’s disciplined control, those she wanted to remain were eager for a good night, and those she didn’t found themselves rather wanting to go home.

And, in no time at all, the tavern had become a private party.

The brunette tavern wenches had found they were quite eager to serve these particular patrons. One, a fetching Mistralian girl, her braided hair held in place with a pair of chopsticks, was seated on Jaune’s lap. She had “accidentally” spilled a mug of ale on her blouse, and Jaune, the gentleman he was, was helpfully sucking it clean as the waitress giggled and squealed. The other was seated on the bar, legs spread and offering Arslan a tasting of the establishment’s finest offerings while she screamed in pleasure. They’d make a fine pair of Myrmidons, Yang figured, so eager to show their hospitality. The colony would need domestic worker ants as much as soldier ants as it expanded. And they’d be seeing quite a bit of expansion after tonight. All around the tavern, Myrmidons ate, drank, gossiped, and flirted with potential recruits, who saw nothing odd at all with the way everyone was behaving. 

But Yang and Pyrrha were seated apart from the festivities. Not that they didn’t _want_ to play with the girls, but because the two of them wanted to just spend some time together.

And because Pyrrha had never had alcohol before.

And she was handling it _hilariously._

Yang stroked her hair playfully. “How’re you feeling, ant girl?”

“M’not an... an ant,” she popped the _t_ , “nodda… ant-tuh girl. M’a Myrmidooooon… _tuh._ ”

“Wow,” she said, admiringly, “You’re a nigh-invincible warrior, a living cauldron of alchemical power, and yet… you really can’t drink.”

Pyrrha pouted at that. “S’not fair,” she whined, “jus’ haven’ had booze b’fore.” Then she giggled, and started stroking Yang’s face as she said in a sing-song voice, “You’re rilly pretty, _Yaaaang._ ”

Yang pulled her into a kiss, taking the alcohol-addled Myrmidon by surprise. Not something Yang could do on most days, so she took a moment to really enjoy their sloppy, drunken make-out session, luxuriating in how, this time, she was the lead, pushing her tongue forcefully into Pyrrha’s mouth and controlling the pace of the kiss.

Pyrrha giggled, continuing to kiss the air after their lips parted. “Neverr had, ummm, lips… lippps, lih- _psss,_ ” she aspirated the p like it was the most incredible thing she’d experienced. “Never had these, ‘n I dunno why I didn’. Cause I was an ant, silly,” she giggled, “They’re just so _soooooooft._ ” To emphasize her point, she started poking her lips with her fingers.

Yang put an appreciative arm around her intoxicated friend. “I think you’ve had a little much to drink, Pyr.”

She reached for Pyrrha’s drink, but this time, her lover’s reflexes were on point, snatching up her mug before Yang could take it from her and downed it. “Y’can’t make funna me, _Yang_ , cause… cause Jaune likes me,” she said with a grin.

She smiled at her drunk friend. “You’re his favorite. Our Queen Ant,” she said with mock formality.

“Noooooo,” she whined, “It’s… you, Yang. Yer the, the favorite. Yer his… _wife._ ”

Yang was about to laugh it off, but the way Pyrrha was looking at her… that look of loving admiration, all she could do was blush and look away.

“He’s in _loooove_ w’you. B’sides,” Pyrrha continued, trying to get more alcohol out of her already-empty mug, “M’not a Queen. Can’t, uh, can’t do the, the thing. The Queen thing.”

Yang was intrigued by what that meant, but she also realized that Pyrrha probably wasn’t in a great state to be explaining the intricacies of the Myrmidon hierarchy. Besides, she was much more concerned with what Pyrrha had said before that. “I… think you’re the favorite, Pyrrha.”

Pyrrha giggled and pulled her into a hug. “Nah, he loooooves me, but, *hic* he _looooooooooves_ you, Yang. And y’wanna know something,” she whispered into her ear, “I _loooooooooove_ you, too. I love you both,” and now she was tearing up, “love you so, so much.”

She gave Pyrrha a pat on the back. “It’s okay, Pyr. We love you too.”

“Not… s’not the same...” she murmured, and Yang picked up a subtle scent of sadness.

Stroking her long red hair, she gently asked, “What’s wrong, Pyr? You’re allowed to say anything you want when you’re drunk. Little human trick; it’s why we have taverns in the first place.”

“No. It’s not fair to… to you...” she trailed off, but Yang wasn’t going to allow her “I shudden feel this way, but...” her voice grew quiet, “I’m _jealous,_ ” she finally confessed, “you’re his fav’rit an’ all, but I wanna,” she sniffled, “I wanna be his fav’rite, too!”

Yang trailed kisses up and down Pyrrha’s neck, tasting her sweet pheromones and giving her own signals of love and support. “You’ve done so much for me, Pyrrha. There’s no one,” she promised, “that Jaune and I love more in the world than you.”

“B’cuz yer both the best!” she cried, “You made me not an- an ant, and you’re so nice, and I love you both so, so much.” Then she hiccuped again. “And you’re super, super hot,” she confessed.

“But you still feel weird,” she asked, softly.

“Don’ wanna feel jealous. Wanna just love you both, an’ jus’ love… just love.”

Yang rubbed her shoulders, feeling a deep and dear warmth towards her sister. “It’s okay if you feel jealous, Pyr… and you can always tell me how you feel,” and Pyrrha’s pheromones practically sang with love and appreciation, “And if I am the favorite… I promise you, you will never be left behind or treated as anything other than my dear, sweet, beloved Pyrrha. Not by me, and _never_ by Jaune.”

Pyrrha snuggled into her. “Promise?” she asked.

“I promise,” Yang answered. “Now, let’s get you home so you can sleep this off.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Renarde for feedback on this chapter!


	6. Chances Long Awaited

Arslan smugly preened her new antennae, enjoying the stares she was getting. Before today, she had preferred to remain subtle, being a presence that people were aware of, so they knew to keep the rowdiness in line, but not the center of attention. But now that she was a Myrmidon, she had a newfound pride in her appearance. No, not her beauty, though Yang had made her realize that she _was_ a very attractive woman, but in her presence as one of the Protectors of Beacon. As a guardswoman, she’d upheld the peace, but now… now she had Duty. And her antennae were a proof of that commitment.

Sun gave a low whistle, “Never thought you’d take the plunge, Ars. Really seems like more and more girls are becoming Myrmidons”

“I say, turn the whole town!” Neptune laughed, “If you can look past the antennae, there’s something about these girls that just… _damn!”_

Arslan just smiled and rolled her eyes. Perhaps it was the pheromones, perhaps the way the Myrmidon transformation seemed to invigorate every inch of her body, but she had to admit, joining Jaune’s harem seemed to make already attractive girls into stunners. But that wasn’t for Neptune to enjoy, she thought with a scoff. Even if they didn’t already have someone for them, she’d always found his flirtatiousness off-putting.

But why was she thinking about _Neptune_ when she was still in the warm glow of the most wonderful thing in the world.

Yang had kissed her.

 _Yang_ had kissed her. Yang had _kissed_ her. Yang had kissed _her!_

And they’d done so much more than that, but that _kiss..._ She had thought it would only be a consolation, the knowledge that she had, in truth, lost Yang’s heart forever, but could at least still be with her, but she had been so wrong. She loved Yang and Yang loved her and the bond they shared was more powerful than anything she’d ever felt before.

The petty jealousies and loneliness of human life had no bearing on a Myrmidon. She had a place in the hierarchy, and Yang’s love for and Duty to Jaune in no way lessened Arslan’s love for and duty to Yang. She wasn’t some empty puppet or loveslave, even as she discovered her newfound love for Jaune, it was expressed… almost like patriotism. She felt it in her love for Yang, and he asked nothing more of her than to love Yang and her sisters as fully as a Myrmidon should. She was part of the colony, a member of the swarm, and it was the most wonderful feeling, like being in love, and yet, somehow so much more so.

Sun brought her back to the present, though. “So… I don’t want this to sound like inciting a panic, but what _do_ we think our chances are against a White Fang force? Now that you’re a Myrmidon, do you-”

Arslan flashed a confident grin. “As our numbers increase, our strength grows exponentially. I am not only stronger than I’ve ever been, I am more in-tune with my sister-soldiers than I’ve ever been with a human.”

“Wow, no offense taken, Arslan,” Sun said in mock-grumpiness.

She gave him an apologetic smile, but it was the truth. Their relationship had always been more a thing of passion than anything either saw having a future, but she still had a fondness for her ex. If he could become a Myrmidon, she would have recruited him immediately. But she continued anyways. “Against the White Fang, we’ve certainly got a considerable and battle-hardened foe, but they’ve been moving more slowly than expected. And we’ve been taking advantage of that time it gives us: as Myrmidon recruitment picks up, our chances get better.” And it had picked up. Most of the guardswomen, following her example, now sported a pair of antennae. Ms. Goodwitch giving a passionate defense of the Myrmidons at the Town Hall, and announcing her own intent to join the cause, casting it as her patriotic duty against the White Fang invaders, had done much to quash the old rumors of “sinister mind control.” Which, of course, let Yang and Pyrrha work their magic across the town, and well… they had a small army now. A proper swarm. “We actually can hold them off. Once they see we’re a more dug-in target than expected, the White Fang will likely break off to the South, looking for weaker settlements and towns to prey on.”

Sun nodded at that. “That seems… sound. Still, hard to believe that our salvation lies in...” and his eyes traced upwards to Arslan’s antennae.

“Well, I for one,” Neptune cut in, “will be more than happy to welcome our new ant overlords home from battle. And I’ll be happy to thank as _many_ girls as I can for as _long_ as they need.”

Sun slapped him across the back of the head, but Arslan couldn’t help but laugh. A polite laugh more than a full laugh, but, from what she and Yang had discussed, she was confident that the town would soon welcome the Myrmidons home with open arms, just as Neptune promised.

* * *

Even without needing sleep like she used to, even though Jaune had long ago taught her the secret magic of coffee, Yang was still not a morning person. Sunrises were for birds and weirdos and no matter how much mystical ant mojo was inside her, it didn’t mean she had to _enjoy_ the dawn air.

And yet, she had to be active. Every day brought the White Fang closer, and they had work to do. Though, she thought to herself, some of their work could still be fun. Yang had been delayed in her plans by Arslan’s interruption, but she still had business with her cute little sister that couldn’t wait. This time, she came early in the morning, with Pyrrha in tow, realizing that her nerdy sister would probably die for a chance to geek out over Pyrrha’s armor.

Approaching the store, Yang could hear the sound of arrows whizzing through the air and making the _thunk_ of a target strike. Ruby, she knew, had taken up archery as a hobby, to try to prove to Yang that she knew more than just books and weapons. Pointing out that bows were also weapons had earned Yang no favor, but she was appreciative that Ruby was doing her part to prepare for the coming battle, and even without being a Myrmidon. “Hey, Rubes!” she shouted as she knocked on the door, “I gotta talk with you about business?”

In a flash, the door opened—how Ruby could move so quickly was a mystery for the ages—and her adorable little sister peeked through to see them both. Smiling, she threw open the doors and ushered them inside, as excited for the chance to meet Pyrrha as Yang had predicted. Not that she was jealous that her sister thought Pyrrha was cooler than she was, that was not at all what she was thinking.

“You’re the Myrmidon! Or-” she looked confused for a second, “How does that work, exactly, if Yang’s also a Myrmidon? Cause she wasn’t an ant first, or, um, was there an ant involved?” She clasped her hands to her mouth, “I’m so sorry, was that rude? I didn’t mean to be rude.”

Yang just laughed and gave her socially-awkward little sis a pat on the back. Contact that had a little bit more than sisterly affection backing it up. Yang thrilled at the taboo nature of what she was doing (but really, she’d done it with her own _mother,_ already), but moreso, she knew that being a Myrmidon, and becoming the personal armorer to their colony, would be little Rubes’ dream job.

To give Yang time to get her sister’s sensibilities in order, Pyrrha moved to distract Ruby by admiring the weapons she had on display. Hefting a heavy polearm, then twirling it in her hands like a gymnast, Pyrrha had to exclaim, “This guandao is rather impressively made! The balance is incredible, and this _weight!”_ She gave a quick barrage of jabs to emphasize it’s fitness as a weapon.

Ruby’s smile beamed bright enough that Yang could use her smile as a torch. “Wow! I’m surprised you could even recognize a guandao—it’s not a common Valean weapon! I had to make it from descriptions and pictures from books I borrowed from- some books I had!”

Yang was surprised as well. There was the question of how Pyrrha, who was, only a few days ago, an _ant,_ knew anything. Yang had had to explain spoons and blankets to her, random details about human life were as foreign to her as one would expect, and yet, she was perfectly fluent in Valean, knew alchemy almost as well as Jaune did, and understood bits and pieces of everyday living. But weapons seemed to be her real purview, and she seemed to just naturally understand how to use her preferred sword, shield, and spear, but also more modern weapons like crossbows and zweihanders.

But Pyrrha gave the polearm a sad smile. “It’s a shame I wouldn’t get a real chance to try using this, not until after the conflict is resolved...”

“Are- are you sure?” Ruby asked, plaintively, “If you want it, I’d be happy to lend it to you for-”

“Ruby!” Yang scolded, “What have I told you about giving us merchandise!”

Ruby kicked the floor as she looked down, embarrassed. “That I’m supposed to get paid in full so you don’t start taking advantage of me.”

Pyrrha gave Yang a bemused look, and she tasted a jolt in her pheromones. She smiled back, signaled _alright, alright,_ and started giving Ruby the business. Soon, the lovely scent of arousal and desire filled the air, Pyrrha giving Ruby some physical contact with her own, subtle commands as she handed her the polearm. Yang wasn’t sure what to expect from it: Ruby wasn’t a disciplined warrior like Raven or Arslan, but she was also very willful, not to mention, the most unpredictable woman Yang had ever known.

But as she set the polearm back on the display, she was a little unsteady as she turned back to them. Ruby looked at her, confused, and the way she was so woozy on her feet sent a thrill up Yang’s heart. “Yang,” she murmured, “I don’t- I- I’m feeling _weird...”_

“Oh?” she asked, teasingly, “how so? _A good weird?_ The kind that makes you wanna… do things?”

Ruby looked up at her big sister helplessly. “S-something’s… Yang… something’s h-happening.”

She was quick to be at her sister’s side, the helpful big sis that Ruby knew she could trust and listen to. “It’s okay, Ruby,” she soothed, and she delighted as her confused little sister slumped into her arms, “Your big sis is right here,” she added, stroking her hair, tickling her scalp with her fingers, letting her sweet scent work its magic.

Suddenly, Ruby looked up, but her eyes were cloudy, with confusion, desperation, pleading… and lust mingling in that look. “Y-Yang, you...” her eyes got wide as the haze lessened, “you know what’s going on? You’re the one… m-making me think these… _things?”_

Pyrrha moved to assist, but Yang signaled she could handle this. It was something she _should_ handle, Ruby being her sister. And, besides, Yang’s command of pheromones now even exceeded Pyrrha’s—yes, Pyrrha was still better at subtler cues, but Yang’s authority had grown. Ruby’s eyes clouded once more as the sweet scent of Yang’s lust overwhelmed her.

And yet, Ruby was still a fighter, still such a strong-willed individual with such a resilient spirit. It made Yang so happy to see that her sister had grown up to be such a strong young woman, and she knew it would make her an exceptional Myrmidon. She only needed a little push, and then all her defenses would go out like a light. Fortunately, Yang knew _exactly_ what to say to get past her little sister’s resistance.

“You’re going make Jaune _very_ happy.”

Ruby froze at the invocation of her crush. She blinked, then inhaled more of Yang’s scent as she crumpled into Yang’s embrace. But then she mumbled something into Yang’s chest. Something Yang barely heard, but knew Ruby couldn’t hold back. “I can’t,” she said in lamentation.

“W-why not? He’s very-”

“Because he has you.”

The sisters were silent for a while as Yang took Ruby’s meaning in.

“He has you...” she repeated, her voice somehow even more blank and hollow, “He won’t want me.”

“Ruby...” she murmured. She gave her sister a compassionate hug, and then let her go. “It’s alright, Ruby,” she reassured her, “there’s a place for you, with us… with _Jaune._ You just have to join us, Ruby, you just have to _give in.”_

And at that, she released her sister from her hug and began to undress. Ruby was too stunned to do more than stare, her eyes wide and as open as her pheromone-soaked mind. As Yang stripped out of her clothes, she thrilled in the feeling of her taboo naughtiness. She felt… powerful, commanding, like a woman who had the _will_ to take what the swarm needed, a leader who could help her sister in her hour of need.

She also felt something… inside her, some kind of _pull_ that she’d never felt before. As her sister’s wide, silver eyes took in Yang’s naked body, the way that they seemed to lock onto her chest felt… right. Not just because Yang knew that her ample assets tended to draw the eye, but because there was something… Something Ruby ought to be doing.

It was like a pressure, some kind of imposition from inside her, something bursting to get out. She felt like her breasts were _swelling,_ like the pressure was inside them. Pyrrha looked upon her with rapt amazement, clearly aware of what was going on and so very excited to see it. And then she started kneading and squeezing her chest, feeling a wave of pheromones leaking from her and then… she felt a wetness, as something started dribbling from her nipples. Something warm and golden in color, like honey.

Ruby stepped forward, her legs unsteady, but she couldn’t help herself. The golden liquid beading on her nipple was full of delicious pheromones that made Yang incredibly wet and made Ruby’s eyes get even more glassy and empty. “Y-Yang,” she whined, helplessly, “W-what’s… happening… to me?”

“Good things,” she reassured her little sister, thrusting her chest out and appreciating the way Ruby moaned as a single golden drop fell from her breasts to the floor. She wrapped her mouth around a fat nipple, and _sucked._ Yang moaned as her little sister’s eager mouth went wild for this golden honey. She couldn’t get enough, suckling like a baby, like she was so very hungry for Yang’s tasty milk.

Pyrrha rubbed her shoulders as she kissed her on the cheek. “I knew you were our Queen,” she said reverently, her eyes warm with love and admiration, “Only you can produce the ambrosia that shows you are our Master’s truly chosen.”

“W-what?” she asked, startled, “I’m not— _oh, Ruby, yes, drink up!—_ any better than you are, Pyr.”

But Pyrrha just smiled as she kissed Yang. “Would you mind if I joined your sister in servicing your breasts, my Queen?”

She wanted to object, to insist that _Pyrrha_ was the one _she_ should be adoring, but the thought of a second pair of lips on her teat seemed far too pleasurable to turn down. Looking down on both redheads as they eagerly drank their fill: Pyrrha, rejoicing in her utility, Ruby, growing more and more lost and empty-headed with every mouthful of ambrosia she swallowed, well, Yang was very, very happy right now.

* * *

She felt _gooooooood._

All these little silly happy thoughts kept bouncing around in Ruby’s bubbly little head. Like, she knew she was at Jaune’s! And she felt really, really horny! And then, like little bubbles, those thoughts would go _pop! pop! pop!_ and she’d be thinking of something else. Her head all cloudy-woudy with the nice smells and her sister bein’ so nice to her and letting her do the silly, dirty things she wasn’t supposed to.

Ruby giggled. She wasn’t supposed to suck on her sister’s big boobies for some reason, but she just smelled so good! And she fell into an even bigger fit of giggles as she thought about suckin’ on her boobs like Yang was her mommy and the yummy, yummy sweet treat she got for it.

Pyrrha was stroking her hair as she giggled. She was so nice. And pretty. And smart. She kept telling Ruby how much Jaune was going to like her, which Ruby didn’t think was true, but Pyrrha kept saying nice things that made Ruby feel better. She just wanted to kiss Jaune a whole buncha times, and if she didn’t get to do that, well, at least she knew her big sister didn’t hate her for wanting her boyfriend. That made Ruby so happy.

She was so happy...

And now Yang was back! Ruby waved, but she felt kind of silly doing so. Pyrrha helped her sit up and said something about being ready, but Ruby didn’t know what she was-

And then Jaune came in.

Ruby felt both winded and suddenly alert as his presence took her breath away. The clouds in her head had parted, driven out by the flood of emotions that came with Jaune. He was so nice and not at all like anyone else in Beacon; they were both nerds, and he never judged her for being so interested in history. He’d loan her books without asking her when she’d return them, and he never minded talking with her about all the things she just got so excited about. He was her bestest friend in the whole wide world, and she must have written a hundred thousand letters all trying to get her feelings figured out and out in the open. Like, trying to tell him when she first realized he was cute, or when they went to the harvest festival together as friends and he paid for everything and let her wear his coat and she just really, really wanted it to be a _real_ date, or when he spent a whole day trying to cheer her up cause she couldn’t stop being sad because she couldn’t stop thinking about her parents. 

She’d made up her mind to marry him when she was thirteen. Yeah, he was older than her, but just by a few years! That didn’t really matter! She was mature for her age, having to take over her dad’s business when she was fifteen. And then, when she was finally eighteen and could finally just drag him down to the Town Hall… she realized that Yang was in love with Jaune. Deeply, deeply in love. Even if Yang, her dutiful, take-care-of-everyone older sister, hadn’t realized it yet. And so Ruby realized she had no choice but to take her feelings and pack them down deep. And the easiest way to do that was to just… see him a lot less.

“Hey, Rubes!” he started, cheerfully unaware of her inner turmoil, “Yang says you wanted to-”

Yang cut him off. “Yeah, that was a lie.” Then, she clasped her by the arm and whispered, “Be brave,” as she turned to her. “Ruby, tell Jaune what you’ve been meaning to tell him.”

C-Could she? Adrenaline spiked, she wanted to run, and yet, something about the way Yang _said_ those words felt like more of a command, like there was something in her brain telling her it was non-optional to follow her sister’s orders. Her mouth opened, and she spoke, without even thinking. “Jaune… I’m in love with you.”

Jaune looked surprised at that—and then swung his eyes over to Yang with, of all things, an accusative stare, until Pyrrha placed a hand on his arm and shook her head _no._ Jaune looked back at her, incredulously, but Ruby had found her courage. “I’ve been in love with you since I was a kid. When you were Yang’s ‘nerdy’ friend, even though I thought you were the coolest guy ever.” It was true. While Yang may have had to keep people from beating him up for being a dork, Ruby loved that he knew so much about science and history and magic and could teach her so many things. “I- I want to be a Myrmidon, Jaune… i-if you’ll have me!” she swiftly added, “I just want to be _yours._ Yours without having to take you from my sister. Yours because I love you so much, I don’t want anything else. Yours forever.”

He looked shocked, but not so shocked. He shot a glance to Yang that, if she was more alert, she might be able to discern. But her big sis, her awesome best big sis, just smiled and said, “She’s been waiting for this for a very long time, Jaune. Don’t keep her waiting.”

And then he looked back to her and that look made her heart just _stop._ Ruby didn’t know what she expected, or even what she hoped for. She just wanted him to not say _no,_ to not turn her away, not when she was so close, so close to what she’d wanted for years. And as he opened her mouth, she couldn’t bear the tension any longer.

She rushed forward from the couch to kiss him, throwing her arms around him and not waiting a second longer. She could risk rejection, she could risk anything, but not until she’d gotten what she’d wanted for so long! And so she kissed him, deep and long, and with every ounce of her longing and desire. His lips were… she could feel her lips sink into his, feeling him meet her kiss with his own. She broke away, fearing to hope as she looked into his eyes.

There was conflict, clear conflict in them, and she had an inkling as to why. He turned to Yang, but her hands shot out, cradling his head in her hands and refusing to let him look into anyone’s eyes but hers. “No,” she said, firmly, “it’s just you and me. That’s all we’re talking about right now. Nobody else.”

His eyes darted back and forth across her face. “B-but,” he protested, “Ruby… it’s an effect of Myrmidon pheromones, you’re not _yourself_ right-”

“I don’t care.” She said it and she meant it. “Yeah, I’m still feeling the after effects of Yang’s… Myrmidon whatever that they’d used to get me here, but I don’t give a _damn_ about it! I want to be here right now, I _want_ what I’m asking for, and, yeah,” she punctuated this note forcefully, “I wanna be a Myrmidon.” Jaune looked at her, and she smiled, wide and hopeful. She smelled something… sweet and familiar, something that made all her anxieties seem to fade away. “I love you. And right now, I _want_ you. I’ve wanted you for a long time, and I’m not missing my chance-”

And she was cut off as Jaune kissed her, as he took her lips in his and kissed her as deeply as she’d kissed him. Their tongues wrestled one another, or, at least, his wrestled hers. Ruby had never really kissed anyone before, being a cool lone wolf (and not a shy nerd), so she was grateful that Jaune had a lot of experience with this kind of thing.

Speaking of Jaune’s experience, as Ruby opened her eyes, she realized that Yang and Pyrrha were upon them. “You’re saving the town, Jaune,” Yang added, sweetly, as she helped undress him, “You need to be less hard on yourself.”

“We love you, Jaune,” Pyrrha added, slipping Ruby’s clothes off of her, “the whole swarm loves you. Just let us love you as you deserve.”

Ruby couldn’t help but smile at that. “Yes, Jaune,” she moaned, feeling that sweet, dizzying scent tickling her nose, _“mmmm,_ let us love you. We want to make you _happy.”_

And Jaune, her dearest, closest friend and long-secret crush, finally relented, guiding Ruby down to the couch. She opened her legs in anticipation, preparing herself for something more than her fingers, something more than the crudely-fashioned leather toys she’d tried to copy from a Mistralian text she’d secretly purchased from Cinder Fall. She looked at his… at his… She looked at Jaune’s _cock_ with approval and longing, admiring its length and thickness, a well-crafted tool, designed for one purpose.

And then that purpose was realized as he entered her.

She gasped, amazed at the feeling of it, so far outclassing anything she’d ever achieved in self-pleasure. She glanced over to where Yang looked upon her approvingly, and then moved to kiss Pyrrha in pursuit of her own pleasure. Ruby smiled back, but she wanted to put all her attention towards Jaune, now. “It’s good,” she squeaked, “it’s so good, keep going, d-don’t stop!”

He set into a rhythm of thrusts, and between the incredible sensations radiation from her pussy and the overpowering scent of… they Myrmidon scent, the same she felt from, _mmm,_ Yang, it all conspired to drive her back to the world of happy bubbles as she felt like she was being driven higher and higher into the clouds until- until-

And then she came _crashing_ down in a great _swing_ that left her screaming out in pleasure, struggling not to black out as the wave of pleasure tried to sweep her consciousness away. Struggling to catch her breath, she panted and gasped, “D-don’t stop, Jaune, p-please don’t stop! I’ve w-wanted this, _mmm,_ wanted _you,_ for too long to stop!”

He smiled at her, leaned down, and kissed her on the forehead. “I love you, Ruby, I do. I love you so much.”

“And I love you too,” she answered, “as a human, as your Myrmidon… I… I love you.”

And then, of course, her sister interrupted. “Aww, that’s sweet and all, but Jaune, I believe the lady asked you to _not stop,_ so...”

Jaune grinned, wolfishly, “You see what they make me do?” But then he set back into fucking her, and Ruby’s whole mind was brought right back up into the clouds.

* * *

Blake Belladonna stumbled through the forest, cursing as she accidentally crashed through a thicket. This was amateurish, and she knew it, but she was just too angry to care. Adam, so drunk on his victory, a victory built on _her_ plan, had become arrogant and entitled. He’d ignored her point about foraging, and now that, as she’d predicted, they’d run out of supplies and needed to stop the march, _just as she predicted,_ by some strange coincidence, she’d been assigned to scout out an area far from the camp. 

She loved Adam, she really did, he was… he was the most wonderful part of her life, from his bold speeches to his soft, tender kisses that made her feel all warm inside. She loved him. But sometimes, he could just be so pig-headed! She knew she was being sidelined for being inconvenient for his “Great Leader Taurus” mythology, and she just knew, with her gone, more of his sycophants would be whispering into his ear. _They_ were the problem, she told herself, not Adam, if she could just… if she could just get through to him, would it all go back to how it was before?

Wouldn’t it?

She shoved forward, trying to drive those thoughts from her mind. Maybe Adam was influenced by a bunch of useless sycophants and maybe she was finally not being _stupid_ about what had always been so _plain in front of her face!_ She realized she was making enough noise as she crashed through the underbrush that her scouting was hardly stealthy, but… well, she didn’t feel particularly motivated to keep up discipline. And besides, the only thing nearby was a sleepy town called Beacon that barely even had a town militia. She wasn’t in any danger here.

Of course, some words just invite a curse upon you as you speak them. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

Blake cursed again, as she turned to see…

Well, this was hard to place. She was Faunus, the rare insectoid type, with two antennae bobbing on her forehead. But moreso, she was tall, and powerful looking, though built more like a gymnast than Adam’s massive frame. Her brilliant red hair was striking, though not as much as the most curious thing about her: what she was wearing. She was dressed in armor Blake expected to see more in one of her books on archaeology than actually standing in front of her. Bronze armor, in the old Mistralian style, complete with the sword, spear, and shield.

“Sister-” she began, but was cut off.

“You are _not_ ,” the strange woman hissed, “a sister of ours.”

Blake steeled her focus. She knew there were Faunus who sided against the Fang, and they were some of the most dangerous enemies she had. The ones, like her mother, least willing to listen to reason. And this one was good enough to sneak up on her—distracted or not, Blake shouldn’t have allowed just anyone to get the drop on her. But diplomacy could buy her time to gain an estimate of whether this woman was a lunatic, or a lunatic with legitimate skills. “Peace. I mean you no harm. But I-”

“Stop reaching for your knife.”

Blake blinked. She’d barely even moved. Nobody should have been able to detect her hand, concealed under her cloak, readying to ease itself onto the handle of one of her throwing knives. No, she corrected herself, it was a lucky guess. Insect Faunus weren’t known for exceptional eyesight, after all, though this one probably had some sensory gains from those antennae. She just guessed, trying to throw Blake off her game.

Well, seems like she guessed lucky, but her luck had run out. Blake smiled, as disarming as she could, and then her hand shot to her knife and she whipped it square into the girl’s eyes. An unfortunate- wait, _what?_

Her hands had moved faster than anyone Blake had ever seen as she, without flinching, caught the knife in midair. Barely a hair from her eye, she’d stopped it, and hadn’t even blinked. Who the fuck was this woman, and what the hell was she doing _here?_

She growled. So she had a nice trick. She wasn’t the only one. It was a shame to lose a good warrior, especially a Faunus sister, but ancient armor was no match for technology’s cutting edge. She flung open her coat, revealing the brace of pistols she kept strapped to her. As she whipped out her flintlocks and squeezed the trigger, she braced herself as the gunpowder went _BOOM_ and her nose filled with the acrid, sulfurous stench of their chemicals and her eyes focused through the smoke to see the barbarian drop like a stone.

Except… once again, that wasn’t what happened. Almost as soon as she fired her pistols, she heard a _ringing_ noise as she, incredulously, watched as the ant woman swept the knife in her hand faster than Blake could follow with her eyes as she didn’t fall down. Had she missed? Impossible: Blake was the best shot in the Fang, and this distance was nothing. And yet… she couldn’t… she couldn’t possibly… the knife was bent...

She had parried her bullets out of the air.

Nobody could move that fast, nobody could _possibly…_ and even if she could, nobody here should even have expected anything like a gun yet! The White Fang had only just unveiled their arsenal against the Lord’s forces, and the fear caused by the smoke and explosion had routed the enemy as much as the bullets themselves! This- this woman, dressed from another era had just...

Who… who _was_ this girl?

But before she even had a chance, the girl was upon her, shield extended, slamming right into her, and sending Blake tumbling into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Renarde for feedback on this chapter!


	7. Interrogation

Her hearing was the first thing to come back.

“...it basically uses the flash powder I use to make fireworks, only they realized you could use it in a metal tube to push a projectile forward. It’s actually pretty incredible.”

Blake’s eyes went wide. Clarity rushed back. She knew this was bad, that they’d not only captured her, but that they seemed equipped to analyze the gun, and if they could-

No, she reminded herself, even if they could reverse-engineer her pistols, this town was in Adam’s path. No matter what they did to her, her failure would not have an impact on the White Fang’s march to victory. But it would be something that… might reflect poorly on her. Especially if she would need a rescue.

Her vision was starting to focus and she got a sense of the situation she was in. Not a good one, even considering she was captured. She realized that she was strapped to a table, rather than just locked up or chained to the wall. And she felt like she was in a laboratory, which, combined with being on a table, made her very worried. But, she reminded herself, that was probably her captors’ aim. Intimidation was a tactic, and one she had learned not to fall for.

Looking over to her captors, she saw the redhead, the incomparable warrior who’d managed to defeat a gun with a knife, standing and observing while the man whose voice she had heard earlier seemed to be messing with her gunpowder. He was tall, appearing to be human, and with messy blond hair and a very keen set of eyes. She didn’t like that. She didn’t like how he was pointing to the gunpowder to another girl with keen eyes, this one with dark, red-tipped hair, bright silver eyes, and another pair of antennae. A relative of the redheaded warrior?

But she was holding up one of Blake’s guns—no, the barrel, they’d disassembled the weapon. Rather expertly, too, considering they’d never seen a gun before. She really didn’t like how she was holding it so analytically. “If it had some way to spin, like with a sling bullet, you’d be able to ensure accuracy over a much longer range… maybe we could put grooves inside the barrel...”

The warrior placed a hand on her relative’s shoulder. “Perhaps, but I believe the more pressing concerns lie with the prisoner. If you could fetch Yang, we can convert her,” and the way she said that word set a chill down Blake’s spine far worse than anything about the laboratory she’d woken up in, “to get the full-”

“No,” the blond man interrupted, “I want a complete and accurate report. And if she takes as long as Raven, they’ll be upon us before she even starts talking. I’ll start mixing a truth serum,” and Blake tensed at that—she figured she could resist, but if he was an alchemist skilled enough to make a truth serum, he was definitely someone who could do more than that, “and we’ll see what she has to say. Let’s keep her…” and he turned to look at her.

If Blake wasn’t coming off of a concussion, her reflexes would have been enough to fake being unconscious, to keep him talking, unaware of her eavesdropping. But she was, and so she merely stared back at him, lamely, trying to think of something heroic or defiant to say.

But she was coming off of a concussion, so all she did was bare her teeth and hiss. Which, at least, seemed to startle the man, but the women seemed nonplussed. “How, um,” he asked, “how long have you been up.”

“Long enough, _human,”_ she sneered.

“Ah, okay,” he awkwardly rubbed his neck, “I‘m sorry for the, um, containment, but my associates are… overzealous, sometimes.” The red-haired warrior suppressed a smirk at that. Blake felt a wave of annoyance knowing that she’d _enjoyed_ strapping her down to the table. Certainly not something _Blake_ would do to a prisoner or enjoy in the bedroom, even though- nope, she had to focus. Had to focus on her captivity, and _not at all_ in a sexy way! Fortunately her captor kept speaking. “Is there any… is there any hope for peace?” he asked, and the tone of voice he asked it in, that desperate and futile hope… it made Blake wish she could tell him something else.

But he was her captor, a human, who had strapped her to a table and surely had all manner of depravities waiting for her. So she gave him an arrogant look. “Surrender. Surrender to the Fang and, perhaps, our army will be _lenient_ with your town.”

He nodded, slowly. Not the answer he hoped for, but he clearly knew it was the only answer he could expect. “Alright then. We’ll return for interrogation.” And then he signaled to his associates to leave.

But as he left, he turned to the warrior and asked, “And could you please stop using my lab to hold prisoners? I do have work I need to be doing.”

The warrior nodded, “I’ll instruct the girls to build a proper facility for imprisonment-”

That answer though, didn’t seem to sit well with the alchemist. “Let’s… not do that,” he said as he exited the room, “Seems a little… much.”

The door shut behind him, and Blake now had time to try and process what had happened. Her situation was bad, though, she supposed, by all rights she could be dead. So this was, at least, a slight improvement. Still, her overall situation was very, very bad. This clearly wasn’t a prison, but as she struggled against her bonds, she realized that she hadn’t been tied up by an amateur. A breakout was likely not going to happen in her current state.

So her best bet… she wasn’t sure. She needed more information, and she didn’t have that much time. But she did have one asset: the White Fang’s victory was assured. Adam had his sights set on this town, and it would certainly fall. She could, perhaps, leverage her connection to the Fang to try and organize an escape through that… So she had options. She could win this. She could escape.

But the phrase “instruct the girls to build a proper facility for imprisonment...” Something about that just chilled Blake to the bone.

* * *

Time passed slowly when there was nothing to do. Blake knew enough to know that this was a tactic of imprisonment, to keep her disoriented. With nothing to do, her mind would over-focus on planning, overthink every option until she’d driven herself to distraction. But Blake was smart. She was a capable leader in the White Fang, even if she had been captured. Even if Adam liked to imply otherwise.

She grit her teeth a little, thinking of what Adam would say once she escaped. He’d make a show, of course, of how relieved he was that she’d returned, but she could already hear it in her head, all the little ways he would say it to twist his words, to imply that she was incompetent, incapable, or ungrateful. That she hadn’t realized how her carelessness would affect _him._ How thoughtless of her not to think of how her actions would affect Adam Taurus, the center of the universe.

Blake groaned. She tried to focus on the positive, to think about how good it would feel to escape, but she couldn’t think of it without thinking of _Adam_ and that… she legitimately couldn’t enjoy the thought of escaping, because “freedom” just meant a return to-

“Um… I’m really sorry to bother you, but...”

She glanced over beside her to someone who had crept in. It was the other redhead, the shorter one with the dark hair and wide, silver eyes. She was surprised that she’d been able to sneak up on her, but, Blake had to admit, she wasn’t at her best right now. She looked at the girl dismissively, knowing that her disarming appearance was obviously a trick to win over her trust. But, she had to admit, this girl was good at it: the way she just seemed to wilt at Blake’s response, well, it tugged at even her heart strings.

“I know, I know, this isn’t… the best time… I’m sorry, I’ll go...”

Blake turned back to her, incredulously. The girl, shoulders slumped, was actually turning to leave. “I- is this a _trick?”_

“I- um, yes? Is it supposed to be?” she blushed, “I’m sorry, I really didn’t think this through at all, I’m really sorry. Please don’t tell Yang I was here. I’m really sorry about this, I’ll leave, and-”

Blake sighed. “What did you want to ask?”

The girl seemed to brighten immediately. "I- I was really impressed by your, um, projectile launcher thingies. You’ve clearly customized them a whole bunch, and I like it whenever people treat their weapons like they’re their partners instead of just tools.“

She stared at the strange girl. “...are you talking about my pistols?”

“A pistol...” she seemed to be trying out the sound of the word. Then she looked to Blake with a somehow wider smile. “That’s so, so cool! And Pyrrha said they make a _huge_ BANG! and there’s all that smoke from the flash powder. I bet people don’t even know _what_ they’re dealing with!”

She couldn’t help but feel a little smug at that. “Well, my pistols are a nice trick in a pinch, but a musket line _really_ shows you what firepower means.”

Her jaw dropped. “What’s a _musket!?”_

She knew she was giving up key intelligence, but she also knew that it didn’t really matter. They’d fall, all the same. “Like my pistols, but they have a long barrel. You line up a bunch and fire ‘em together and the enemy _scatters._ Future of warfare, believe me.”

“Woooooow,” the girl exhaled. “They’re super, super cool. And you’ve done so much to take care of them.”

“Well...” she blushed. Something as straightforward as the typical good guard/bad guard interrogation strategy shouldn’t work on her, but the girl seemed so painfully sincere that something about her just made Blake want to brag to her about her pistols. “They need to be carefully maintained, for accuracy and to make sure the powder doesn't fail.”

“I thought the little symbols you engraved in the, um, the grips? I thought they looked very nice.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled, not liking how _likable_ this weird Faunus girl was. “They’re my… they’re my parents’ symbol.” She didn’t like thinking about that, especially not now. But at the same time, this conversation was helping her formulate a plan. All she had to do was convince her that she was her friend. And then, she could promise her a position in the White Fang—she was a Faunus, after all—if she just helped her escape. She had the keen eyes of a gunner, and a good markswoman would certainly be accepted in the Fang.

Well… that was, if _Adam_ would accept her in the Fang. And that brought a pause to Blake’s thoughts. What would Blake be if she won this naive, trusting girl over, got her to betray her friends, likely even her family, bring her back to camp… and then she became a target of Adam’s jealousies and insecurities? If he accused her of being a human spy, or just irrevocably tainted?

Would she be leading an innocent girl to her doom?

And that sent a knife of guilt through her. To think of her cause as a _doom,_ as a curse that an innocent Faunus girl needed to be _protected_ from, and yet… it was the truth, wasn’t it? Could she, without reservation, say that this girl would be safe with Adam? Was _she_ safe with Adam?

“I- I’m Ruby, by the way. And I’m really hoping we don’t have to be enemies.” Her voice dropped low, “You seem really nice.”

“Thanks...” she said, feeling a pull of sympathy towards Ruby. “I’m Blake. Blake Belladonna. I… think you’re very nice, too.”

And the girl’s whole face seemed to light up in an incredible smile. “That’s great” she said, and then her voice dropped to an embarrassed whisper, “I, um, I’m not always the best with people, and even though I’m part of the swarm now, I’m still, um, not the best at making-”

“Ruby...” a stern voice cut in, just as Ruby was explaining some things Blake was _very_ uncertain on.

She looked up. There was now another insect Faunus, also with antennae on display. She was blonde, and while Blake didn’t like to admit it about her captors, a rather attractive woman. A _breathtakingly_ attractive woman. She seemed to exude self-confidence and had a superior look on her face that made Blake feel like she’d already lost, but only the blonde really knew it. And… dammit all, a sliver of her treacherous mind really didn’t mind losing to her. But right now, the blonde knockout’s attention was focused on being annoyed with her current interrogator.

“Oh, um, hi Yang, I was just asking Blake some-”

_Yang._ What a name…. “Could you join me outside to… talk.” The atmosphere seemed to change to something much icier, and the way Ruby’s antennae wilted in dismay brought a surge of worry to Blake.

“She- she was interrogating me,” she protested, realizing how absurd it was she was _defending her captor,_ “She didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Oh, no no no,” Ruby protested, “It’s not Blake’s fault! _I_ wanted to ask her about her pistols, Yang! You know they’re really cool and-”

“Ruby.” she said, and the girl’s bearing seemed to droop. Then she turned to Blake, her eyes ( _damn_ she had beautiful eyes, even like this) wary. “If you’ve got anything to say, I’d say it now. The serum’s ready.”

And as the door opened, letting her and Ruby exit (and Blake felt a momentary sadness to see the friendly young woman leave), the human returned with the red-haired warrior. He was carrying a small, tapered cup, surely containing the serum. He approached her with it in hand; she figured she could struggle, but it seemed futile. Cooperating, for now, was her best bet. The warrior, though, didn’t take her compliance for granted, placing her hands around Blake’s jaw, opening it as the human poured the truth serum down her throat.

It was… it was _delicious._ It was honey sweet and immediately reminded Blake of how long it had been since she’d eaten anything but marching rations. She couldn’t stop herself before she eagerly swallowed the tasty serum, even licking up the bit that splashed upon her lips.

A surge of embarrassment came across her as she realized what she had done, and worse, that the warrior was looking down at her with a look of smug recognition. Blake blushed, and tried to put up a tough front, but she knew she’d already lost.

“Alright,” the human began, “let’s start with a simple question. What is your name?”

Blake wanted to test her ability to resist the serum, but she answered “Blake Belladonna” before she even realized she was speaking.

“How far is the White Fang from our town?” the man asked.

“Too close for you to do anything about it,” she sneered. Her interrogators looked from one to the other. Yes, it seemed like she could still resist, so long as she kept to true answers. Not everything that was true was something they wanted to hear, after all.

“Is there any way this could still have a peaceful resolution?”

There it was again, that something… that sincerity in his voice that Blake didn’t like. And that dislike left an opening, a crack in her mental defenses, and she suddenly felt a _pull_ that opened her mouth before she could stop it. “No,” she answered, “Adam will see any outcome that doesn’t end with the White Fang conquering all the settlements in the area as unacceptable. Any diplomatic or military strategy that avoids a fight with Beacon would be seen as a personal insult. Adam will sacrifice every tactical advantage, will spend any number of lives to ensure he does not seem weak.”

She had said far more than she ought to, but she realized that the real danger wasn’t just that she couldn’t resist, but that the _pull_ of the serum was unlatching things buried deep down, thoughts she didn’t even actively think that now wanted to come out.

“Who… who is Adam?”

“A tyrant.” She couldn’t stop herself. Even without the serum, she suspected she couldn’t stop herself. She’d buried so much, so deep, and now that she wasn’t suppressing it, it tore forth. “A small-minded bully who’s turned his personal tragedy into justification to tyrannize his own people and establish himself as a new ruler. He will- he will-” her teeth began chattering as she could see all too clearly what she’d always known and never seen: that Adam Taurus was a danger to all of them.

“Are you...” he paused, looking at her with a look she’d never seen on a human’s face before. “Are you alright?”

She tried to stop herself. Tried so hard to grab that one answer and not let it out, but she couldn’t. _“No!”_ she cried, “I’m not! I’m s-so unhappy all the t-time, and I tell myself I’m not, but it’s _not true!_ And I h-hate myself because I’m supposed to b-believe in the cause, but I _don’t._ Because I _can’t!”_

Blake sobbed. Great, racking sobs, with tears running down her cheeks and _years_ of abuse finally coming out. All the ways Adam undermined and belittled her, all the things she told herself were just because he had so much on his mind, the way he mocked and humiliated her in front of everyone, or when he would scream at her for hours, but she would just accept his apologies later because she was just too scared to admit that he was bad for her, because if he was, everything she’d done had just been to make her miserable! She realized that she had been unlatched from the table, and she collapsed into the blond’s arms, shaking and sobbing.

He held her, and Blake wondered when was the last time she’d felt any physical kindness, any real intimacy with another. She just let him hold her for a while, until her tears dried up.

“Truth serums, um, they work on repeat dosages...” he said, wringing his hands, “I use a heavy first to calibrate and then the rest to get information.” He looked at her, concerned, “You’re… clearly very upset about this, and, um, I think… I think you really need help. I don’t know what we can-”

“Can’t help,” she sniffed, “no one can help. Nobody can stop Adam. Not now.”

“Perhaps...” the red-haired warrior cut in, “But he’s never faced a Myrmidon before, has he?”

“A… what?” But the word did have some resonance in Blake’s memory… something she read once, something… something that seemed to remind her of the antique Mistralian armor the warrior woman had been wearing.

“You might think we’re Faunus,” the woman said, gesturing to her antennae, “but we’re not. It’s an alchemical transformation. I was once an ant, but my sisters were all once human women. You’ve seen what I am capable of, and we have an army of women nearly as strong as me. Through Jaune’s formula, we’ve been enhanced. Strengthened. And we’ve recruited a swarm that might be strong enough to stand up to this _Adam.”_

Blake stilled. She’d seen this girl cut two bullets out of the air. And if she had a _swarm…_ they wouldn’t have better numbers than the Fang, nor would they have firearms, but Blake knew all the combat tactics Adam would use… and she knew what mistakes he'd make carrying it out. Adam would be... as Adam's ego grew, defeat was inevitable. He'd overreach and overcommit, but if he could face a defeat now... She realized the serum was unlocking truths she'd hidden even from herself, but she'd been considering treason for a _long_ time. She'd been thinking out the best way to protect her people from Adam and the rest of the arrogant would-be tyrants he surrounded himself with.

“We need all the help we can get, Blake Belladonna. You can be part of-”

The man, presumably Jaune, cut her off. “Pyrrha, I don’t think-”

“No,” Blake shook her head, “Adam must be stopped. If he isn’t stopped here, he’ll either destroy the cause by trying to fight the whole world or, if he’s bottled up, he’ll soon turn on his own people. I helped him, got him to this point. I _will_ help you stop him. I have to.”

And the man looked at her, searching her face for any angle or misgiving he might find. But finding nothing but her sincerity, he nodded. “Alright, we’ll get the potion.”

* * *

He carefully measured the potion, precisely dropping two tiny globules of Pyrrha’s blood into a golden concoction. It smoked and crackled in a threatening way, but Jaune smiled, and the girls… it was like they all let out a great sigh.

Yang rested her hand on Blake’s shoulder. “Oh, you don’t have antennae yet, so you don’t know, but that scent… _mmm…_ it’s _heavenly.”_

Judging from the closed eyes, upturned noses, and happy smiles on Ruby and Pyrrha, Blake was inclined to agree. And she felt… it was an odd feeling, like a nervous tingle in her core. Looking at them, how blissful they looked, she felt _jealous._ Had she ever looked as happy as they did now? Hell, when was the last time she’d actually been happy at all?

But Jaune had finished the potion and poured it into a cup, which he then passed to her. Holding it in her hands, she stared into it for a second and then, she imbibed the potion and gave a silent prayer that it would give her the strength to fix things. To make things right. It tasted… it had the citric sting of lemon juice and what seemed to taste almost exactly like cinnamon, but there was something else to the flavor. As she swallowed, she felt the telltale crackle of magic, like a shiver passing from her core through every nerve until it reached her fingers and toes and scalp. Her ears twitched, she suddenly felt warm, then cold, and then…

And then it was her _mind_ that opened. That was the only way to describe it, like she’d never realized how narrow the walls surrounding her thoughts were until the potion suddenly let the expand and open up.

It was like her being, the Blake that existed before now, had merely been an egg, a protective shell built to shelter her as the True Blake could grow and develop, and today, finally burst out. Her old life was… it was still dear to her. She was still herself, still loved to read, loved romance, still cared dearly for the Faunus cause, she even still had a deep well of love and care for Adam, but now… she realized that they were all true and correct desires that merely needed direction.

And that’s what she had now. Direction. Purpose. Duty… Love. She had Love now, a purer and higher Love that made her realize that everything she loved before was merely practice, training for her true purpose.

She tasted his scent for the first time, realizing that she now had a pair of antennae that felt as natural and proper as her own hands, and looked into the eyes of her new Master. Her heart thrummed with love and devotion, just as natural and proper as her antennae, as she looked upon the man who had redeemed all her mistakes, who had corrected her error, who had given her purpose in Duty.

She knew exactly the words to speak at this moment. “‘I give myself over to thy command/for what fool I was to think I/could stand against hallow’d Love.‘”

“Oh, you’re a fan of _The Wanderers Romance,_ too!” Ruby cheered, then immediately turned red as the others looked to her. “I-it’s just a book! A really good one about, um...”

“About Love,” Blake answered, “ _True_ Love, the Love that makes all other loves stronger, the Love that I feel right now, for our Cause, for my sisters… and for you, my Master,” she lowered her eyes submissively.

And Yang, her Queen, her beautiful, magnificent Queen, reached over to embrace her. “Welcome to the Myrmidons,” she said with a smirk, “though, I think you’re not really going to need much orientation.”

“No, my Queen,” she smiled. She could taste in the air what they all wanted of her, and she was quite eager to give it.

Her Queen looked over to her Master with a grin. “So respectful! I think I _like_ this one.”

“Don’t start expecting that from me,” Ruby griped, and Blake smiled at her new sister. She felt such a pull of sisterhood, such a _connection_ with the rest of the swarm, the sort of feeling she had once felt with the White Fang only magnified. They were all stronger for each other, and she knew that her sister’s strength was hers, just as she was her sister’s.

And Pyrrha came up to her, such a beautiful, peerless warrior, and looked to her with a knowing smile, “I can _tell,_ ” she said with a wiggle of her antennae, “that you’d like to thank Master for his merciful kindness. If you’d follow me to the bedroom-”

“No, please,” she protested, and blushed as Pyrrha gave her a quizzical look, “I wish to be… taken by the Master... as a prisoner. To offer myself, to offer my body,” she blushed, furiously, thinking of her late nights reading romances by candlelight, “as repayment for my transgressions.” And then she gestured towards the table, with the bonds currently unlatched.

But Ruby looked to her, hand clasped to her mouth and silver eyes sparkling. “Just like Queen Anore and Sir Trisfal, oh, it’s so _romantic!”_

“Ruby, _where_ are you _getting_ these books?” the Queen cut in, “But- okay, not the time. So, Jaune,” she turned to their Master, “I think you heard the lady—she’s got a lot she wants to make up for and there’s only _one way to do it...”_

Ruby and Pyrrha helped her onto the table, firmly latching her arms and legs in place as they stripped her naked. Blake _adored_ the feeling, being both so wholly exposed as well as feeling so tightly embraced by her constraints. It was the great paradox of her being: she had given up her freedom to her Master, but she had been liberated by her change. She was exposed and embraced, sheltered and shamed. It was a delicious feeling, and she savored the moment, the last time before she was wholly claimed by her Master.

She bit her lip and squirmed on the table, enjoying the feeling of her helplessness, her total helplessness before the man who now loomed over her. She purred as his handmaidens undressed him, those lovely girls, her new, beloved sisters, and Blake cast her eyes upward, wanting not to spoil the surprise.

But she heard as he approached the table, climbed up and… _mounted_ her.

_Ohhhhhh,_ it was _magnificent!_ He wasn’t as large as Adam was, but it was so much _better!_ Her pussy felt like it was molded exactly for his cock and he was quite skilled at exploring it. Size had nothing on technique, and he was a very caring lover, as focused on her pleasure as his own. And she’d never experienced sex with such heightened senses—even as a Faunus, she’d never known how much of sex she could now appreciate. She could _taste_ her Master’s desire for her, the arousal of Pyrrha and Ruby and the _wonderful_ scent of Yang’s approval.

She loved them. She loved them all so dearly, so much _more_ than she ever knew she could love. All her beliefs, all her romances, everything was just leading her to this moment. With every thrust, she felt her bonds on her wrists, a reminder of her new, joyful servitude, and she cried out in joy at the pleasure.

Oh, this was so much better than her _books!_ She’d never imagined that sex could _be_ so amazing! She’d been converted by the potion into a Myrmidon, but this _dick_ was turning her into his perfect, obedient servant girl! Oh, and there was only one thing that could make it better...

“Please,” she begged, “break me! Change me! Free me from my old self! From all my old mistakes!”

Pyrrha loomed over her imperiously, no kindness, no mercy to be found in her features. “Do you forsake your old life and all its emptiness?”

“Y-yes! Yes!”

Now her Queen stood to her side, her magnificent, unclothed breasts now bouncing proud and free. “Will you obey your new Master in his every command?”

“Yes!” she cried, tears in her eyes, her whole body jolting with every perfect thrust, “Yes, I will, yes!”

Pyrrha smiled now. Oh, she was _perfect,_ a peerless warrior, and so, so beautiful! “Will you live your life for his pleasure?” she asked.

“Yes! Only- only for him!” she squealed, feeling her body convulse on his cock, her orgasm building powerfully, but she knew- she knew that she couldn’t- couldn’t cum until told!

“And, um,” Ruby popped in, but immediately seemed to regret it. “Will you… be a good Myrmidon sister?”

And she laughed. “Yes, Ruby, yes, I will.” Gods, she loved them, loved all of them _so much!_

But then her Master leaned forward, placing the weight of his body on her. “Then cum with your Master!” he commanded, and as she felt his dick _twitch_ and her pussy _fill_ with hot, sticky cum, she- oh! She- _OH! OH! OHHHHHHHH!_

It all went dark as an overpowering orgasm brought her to the brink of consciousness. She came to in a familiar position, bound to a table, but this time, touch was the first sense to return. And in a very specific place.

She could feel his lovely cream sliding out of her. As she was unlatched from the table by her sisters, the first thing she did was reach down and scoop part of his load up with her fingers and take it to her mouth. Mmmm, it was as delicious as she had hoped. By far the tastiest alchemy she'd received from her Master. As her eyes fluttered open, she saw Ruby giving her a hungry look, and she gestured towards where the rest of his spunk coated her well-filled pussy. “Please,” she said teasingly, “By all means.”

And as Ruby dove in, she realized that she was going to _love_ her new sisters in a whole different way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while! Don't worry, I've got the last four chapters started and outlined, and I hope there won't be another big delay in this one. 
> 
> Thanks to Renarde for feedback and advice on the chapter!


	8. What Power Means

Jaune was not used to pomp and circumstance. The formal robes he was wearing felt heavy and foreign, and he wore a sword at his side, though he’d be damned if he knew how to use it. It had been a gift from Ruby, taking the old family sword off the mantelpiece and freshening it up. And he had to admit, she’d done amazing work: the way the light gleamed off the razor-sharp blade or the yellow glint of the pommel, where Ruby had inlaid a piece of polished amber (with a prehistoric ant trapped inside, a very Ruby-ish move). Crocea Mors, she’d named it—the Yellow Death—and it did make him look the part of the town’s military leader.

And that’s why he was so dressed up. He was at Town Hall to formally sign the agreement to give him full command of Beacon’s defense against the White Fang. It was purely formality: Yang commanded the town guard, the Myrmidons, and the Branwen Gang that was, right now, scouting and harrying the advancing army, but she and Pyrrha had agreed that it’d look better if Jaune was understood to be in charge. Why? He wasn’t sure, but they were quite insistent on it.

He sighed as he took the quill presented to him by Glynda Goodwitch, now sporting a familiar pair of antennae, and signed his name to a document making him, effectively, the unquestioned ruler of Beacon. The assembled town fathers, notables, and the numerous Myrmidons in the audience applauded as Ms. Goodwitch took the document to be formally archived and stored. Jaune had never really wanted power, he’d only wanted to keep Yang safe, and now, he ruled a town with his ever-growing harem of ant girls.

Life was weird, sometimes.

But the document was signed, and he was now politely receiving his congratulations and well-wishes at the reception afterwards. It was odd to hear how optimistic the humans of the town seemed to be with this decision—the town fathers were not the sorts to be happy to trade off power, but perhaps they simply saw his temporary rulership as a better option than the White Fang? ...or perhaps their attitude was more informed by the desire that a _human_ remain in charge while there was an ever-increasing army of disciplined ant women.

It was funny—this was a formal ceremony to grant him almost absolute power over the town, but aside from a brief appearance by Yang at the beginning of the ceremony, in her role as Captain of the Guard, she had quickly left to attend a meeting with Pyrrha, Blake, and Ruby to plan the _actual_ defense of the town. Even Ruby, now effectively the Quartermaster of the swarm, had a more important role than _he_ did.

But what, exactly, his role was supposed to be felt stranger and stranger every day. Was he really in “charge” of the Myrmidons? He had given Yang and Pyrrha almost total autonomy in running things, and only gave minor advice or corrections, like in his decision to give Blake a truth serum rather than just converting her with pheromones. He had asked, not told, that they not prioritize his own protection over the safety of Beacon, but if, one night, they told him that Beacon was lost and he was to be smuggled out for his safety… he wasn’t sure he could tell them no. He wasn’t even sure he could actually bring himself to order them to give their lives for the defense of the town, even though he knew that… well, that’s what a battlefield commander _did._

But then there was the matter of the girls’ loyalty to him, and how it complicated the ethics of that. It wasn’t just that their loyalty was absolute and unquestioned, which made every command he gave feel so much _weightier,_ it was the way they expressed that devotion. And his personal escort at this event seemed to demonstrate the full spectrum. Arslan had expressed an admiration, even her love, for him, but that love was even-tempered and certainly not sexual. She followed orders, like a soldier, and, if Jaune was _actually_ in charge of the defense, he knew that was something he’d have to do. Whereas Dew, one of the first girls he’d turned into a Myrmidon, was clearly enamored with him to the point that there were practically hearts in her eyes, and she sought any opportunity to win his favor. And the coming battle was, to her, a perfect chance to do so—and that made him so much more uncomfortable with what he was asking her to do.

Ruby and Yang, he knew, had been in love with him before they took the potion, and both claimed that becoming a Myrmidon merely let them express what they’d always felt. Blake, however, had told him that the thought of romance with a human was simply not something she’d ever even considered before, but now, she literally wrote him love poems that he was constantly finding slipped into his path. And Raven had _certainly_ never felt anything more than contempt for him, but, according to Yang, she apparently missed him quite a bit and had a longing to see him once the White Fang were defeated.

“You seem troubled.”

He whirled and saw Miss Goodwitch coming up to him, drinks in hand and with a soft smile that, considering he didn’t think he’d _ever_ seen her smile at him before, seemed rather happier than the slight curve indicated. She passed him a glass, and with an appreciative word, sipped it.

“Thinking about the battle,” he admitted, then, after taking another sip, “Do you think…” and he dropped his voice in worry, “do you think you’re still you?”

“Ah,” she smiled at him, “I had a feeling that’s what was troubling you. And it’s a question I’ve given quite a bit of my own thought to, but it’s a philosophical matter—a question that always leads to more questions. There are things I want now I’ve never wanted before, but that’s true of every time in my life, is it not? And my obedience, and, yes, my _desire,”_ she sighed as she said that word, “for you were inspired by alchemy. But I’ve loved before, loves inspired by youthful fancy or material assumptions, and those loves led me to unhappiness, while this love...”

“Are you happy?” he asked.

She closed her eyes. “Exquisitely,” she sighed, and then looked back to him, “I am happy to have purpose and connection, a happiness that comes from finding new things I’d never known I wanted, but also… I’m happy that I can defend Beacon.” Jaune blinked at her in surprise. “Is that so strange? I love Beacon. It’s my home. It’s been my home my entire life. And I’ve given so much of myself, so much of my life to this town… Yes, I think, if I was given the choice again, whether to become a Myrmidon, I think I’d still take it. Even knowing that it meant total obedience and purpose, I would take it. And knowing what I know now,” she chuckled, “It’s hard to explain to someone who isn’t a Myrmidon, but… my life is simply better this way. It’s a happiness and purpose and peace that, if you were able to reverse the alchemy, I would want _back.”_

But he still had to ask. “But… are you… would the old you be comfortable with this? Would you-”

“When I was a young woman,” she interrupted him, “I never would have wanted _anything_ that was my life before I took your potion. Being the town clerk? I would have turned my nose up at it, but as I got older, I realized, what I wanted back then wasn’t what I want now. The past doesn’t own me, Jaune. I do.”

“But what if it was compelled? I mean, you-”

She suddenly wrapped her free arm around Jaune’s head and pulled him in for a sudden, passionate kiss. As she pulled back from a stunned Jaune, she replied, “You can ask Ms. Altan if any force compels _her_ to do anything like that. Believe me—that was _my_ choice. So,” and she gave him a coquettish wink, “shall I fetch you another drink, _Master?”_

He politely declined the offer with a laugh.

As Miss Goodwitch moved on to talk with another town official, Jaune realized he felt a lot better from the talk, and not just from the stunning kiss. Once the defense of Beacon was handled, he could assess, could ask the Myrmidons what they wanted and what their goals were… though, he did have to worry a little that Yang and Pyrrha both seemed to have quite a bit more interest in recruiting new girls than he did, so maybe he should still have a role as a voice of moderation.

A voice of moderation on the expansion of his harem of beautiful women. He had to have a chuckle at that thought.

After the ceremony, he left with Arslan and Dew—he didn’t need the escort, and they certainly had other tasks they could be spending their time on, but Pyrrha and Yang had explained that this duty had been a reward to the two of them, and Jaune was fast understanding that his real role was being a reward to hard-working Myrmidons. Remembering what Miss Goodwitch had told him, he asked them, as he took his carriage back to his home (though it was swiftly becoming more of a castle), what they wanted from him. Arslan merely wanted his appreciation, while Dew...

By the time he got home, he was quite worn out. Dew was enthusiastic, and that this was her “reward” made her ecstatic. Arslan found the whole thing quite humorous, and teased them both as she helped them (and their wobbly legs) out of the carriage.

But as soon as he planted his feet on the ground, he realized that not all was right at home. Pyrrha was standing outside, and quickly strode to him as Arslan and Dew saluted. Before he could even greet her, she was already telling him the situation.

“Cinder Fall has returned to town, and she sent a message. She’d like to speak with you, about a matter of business.”

And Jaune did not like the sound of that. 

* * *

In Cinder Fall’s world, there were two kinds of setbacks: accounted and unaccounted.

Accounted setbacks were an acceptable reality of making plans. Gambits would, inevitably, fail, and part of seeking reward was taking risk. She, of course, never let her subordinates know that these setbacks were acceptable, but she lost nothing, in truth, even if it seemed like a daunting defeat.

Unaccounted setbacks, though, were unacceptable. Because any number of things can fail in a plan—a subordinate could underperform, variables could change, luck could be against you, any number of _others_ could fail—but when the unaccounted for happened, it was _you_ who failed. And that was unacceptable.

Cinder Fall faced setbacks. She became stronger for them. _She did not fail._

But sometimes, these setbacks were in surprisingly gray areas. Sometimes, an unforeseen variable wasn’t a setback to your plan… but the realization that there was a grander plan, a bigger plan, that recast everything that came before. Those setbacks were moments where she needed to change her way of thinking on what _was_ accounted and unaccounted.

Because then those setbacks were _opportunity._

And one such setback was a Mr. Jaune Arc.

He entered into the tavern she was staying at accompanied by the legend herself, the red-haired warrior in the unmistakable brown armor that told the world she was not of it. The Myrmidon, Pyrrha—remarkable, capable, and, also, undeniably, beautiful. She brought a knife to a gunfight and came out the clear winner, and she’d been building an army that could do the same.

By all rights, she might be the single scariest thing alive in the world, and Cinder knew firsthand who she was competing against.

So, of course, she showed no fear as she got up from her bench and swooped forward, pulling Jaune into a tight hug. “Jaune!” she cried, “I’m so glad you could take the time—this war has… we’re all doing what we can to get by. And that’s why I wanted to speak with you.”

Not letting him get a chance to speak (partly for the tactical reason of keeping him on the back foot, partly because she rather enjoyed making him flustered), she led them back to her table, where a heavy cloth was covering an object.

“From what I hear, you know what _this_ is,” and she flipped open the cloth, revealing the musket on the table. Jaune’s eyes went wide. Pyrrha’s narrowed. They’d already seen one before, from the captive they’d taken, and, if her guess was correct, she’d spilled all her secrets already (likely after receiving a pair of antennae), but she knew they had to keep their cards close on the matter.

Jaune was the first to speak, guardedly, “Where did you-”

“Stole it from the White Fang camp. Wasn’t easy, but I knew the prize was worth it.”

She left out the fact that she hadn’t so much _stolen_ it as “failed to deliver,” but they didn’t need to know who was the source of the White Fang’s advanced weaponry. But their eyes carefully studied the weapon, which told her that they had a good description from their captive, but not an example. That was good information, and gave her a good opening to bait the hook.

“From my intelligence, you’ve gotten your hands on one of these before, from a defector, and-”

“How did you know _that?”_ Jaune cried, and Cinder smirked—she really did enjoy seeing him get worked up.

But she had business to manage first. “I never reveal my sources,” she replied, watching Pyrrha from the corner of her eye. She was wary but… intrigued. She could recognize talent, and she was definitely looking at Cinder like she was a potential asset—no, like she was a potential _resource._ And wasn’t that exciting! “But to say the least, you’re in a dangerous situation with the White Fang, even worse than you were before. And I want to help.”

Jaune stared at her blankly for a moment before finding his voice to ask, “Why?”

“How, Jaune, the correct question was _How._ But I’m the best trader you know, I have _never_ failed to procure the rare and delicate supplies you need, even in times of crisis, _and…_ I’m an excellent smuggler, if it should come to that. But… how about we, oh, talk this out over dinner? Perhaps,” she gave her voice a seductive depth, “you and me, an opportunity to… get to know each other better?”

She saw how the Myrmidon’s eyes _flared_ in anger at that, her hand protectively going to Jaune’s shoulder as the young man stammered a response.

“I’m only teasing,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes in a non-teasing fashion, “but I would like to speak with you, _and your retinue,_ in a more private setting. We have business to discuss, and I’d rather do it over a meal… and maybe, if you play your cards right, we could discuss it in an even more… _intimate_ setting?”

Jaune kept stammering and the Myrmidon stepped forward, but Cinder was quick to tamp down the tempers and explain she was only _joking,_ though her eyes told Jaune a much different story. And as they acquiesced to her demand and departed, Cinder scanned the both of them as they left—yes, she rather did enjoy flustering them. They were _cute._

But then she heard the creak of the bench as Emerald revealed herself and took a seat beside her.

“What did you see?” she asked her protégée.

“Your theory’s correct about scents,” she nodded, “Messing with her perceptions… she wouldn’t notice anything if the scents were right, but she _definitely_ reacted more to scents being off than sights or sounds.”

Emerald was quite the gifted illusionist, especially for one who had no formal magical education. And that one so talented was also so endlessly grateful for Cinder’s appreciation made her a very useful subordinate. “Did you think she caught on to you?”

“Doubtful,” she whispered, “she’s subtle, but not that skilled.”

“Well, that confirms our first theory. And they’re definitely using some kind of scent to affect people,” she mused, “Some kind of pheromone? We don’t really have time to devise another option, and getting a proper sample could be difficult...”

Emerald nodded. “I would guess that our best option is to withdraw from the conflict and let the White Fang handle them.“

A sensible perspective. But Cinder could hear that Emerald hadn’t said all she wanted to say, and she knew better than to let doubts fester in her underlings. “You have a question on my strategy?”

Emerald sighed, clearly struggling to voice a doubt to her “Perfect Leader.” “What kind of business could you want to discuss with them? They don’t have a lot of money or tradable goods, and even if they _can,_ somehow, beat the White Fang, we’re going to have to turn around and find a way to undermine them for the Queen!”

True enough, true enough… but how tedious a situation was that? “No, I’m thinking… something different.” And then she grinned, the sort of predatory, shark-toothed grin that only Emerald got to see and Emerald knew to be very, very wary around. “What do we get if we continue with our current allies?”

Emerald looked at her incredulously. “You- you can’t mean to-”

“I can mean whatever I want,” Cinder looked to her severely, “but doesn’t this side seem rather more appealing? If they should defeat the White Fang… you can’t tell me that Jaune’s a much more agreeable figure than that idiot bull.”

“But… what about the Queen?” Emerald asked, her eyes wide and her voice sounding like she couldn’t believe her own words.

“Oh, the Queen...” and she grinned again, “Her Horde is impressive, but… wouldn’t this be the much more _interesting_ side to win?”

Emerald seemed to almost disbelieve her own hearing as she gawked at Cinder. Good. That told her she was on the right path. Cinder craved power and control, but above all, _dominance._ Defeating an enemy was not enough unless she could _prove_ her supremacy, and their current allies were just so… _boring._ Arm the upstarts with weaponry the kingdoms couldn’t possibly anticipate, then, once they were weakened, the Witch-Queen would sweep in with her nigh-unstoppable Horde, and nothing could stand against it!

She hardly even had to _do_ anything.

But what if… what if the Queen _lost?_ The thought sent a tremor of excitement to Cinder’s core. Because the winning side, then, would be headed by, of all people, _Jaune Arc._ And unlike the Queen, Jaune was fun to tease, to play with, to keep dangling in uncertainty like he was never sure if he was a business partner or he was her prey.

 _And he is rather cute,_ Cinder thought with a grin, _play my cards right, I might be able to get more out of this than just advantage..._

* * *

It was stunning how creepy the house had become.

Well, not so much creepy in the haunted house sense, it really looked rather nice. Not ostentatious, nor even overly dramatic, even though it was the heart of what was now undeniably a military organization. It was a nice home, a nice home for a nice man-

Emerald caught herself on that thought. Yes, she thought Arc was nice, he’d always been very respectful to her, which was a lot more than could be said of Cinder’s other big ticket clients. He didn’t treat her like she was his assistant and he always greeted her when he came to meet them, unlike so many people who thought she was invisible. She _hated_ when people treated her like she was invisible, which she was aware was ironic, because half her job was to be invisible. But a nice man doesn’t mean a _good_ man, and the presence of the… the women made her very nervous.

The antennae were a little odd, and the way they silently communicated through scent definitely made her wary, but that was nothing compared to the way everyone smiled. Not the blissed out smiles of drug addicts soaring on a high, like she expected, or even the creepy smiles she saw among some of the White Fang’s… most devoted. No, what was creepy about these smiles was how… genuine they were.

Nobody, and Emerald had experience enough to know it for a fact, was truly happy. Everyone had something they were hiding, some inner sadness that could be exploited. People _acted_ happy, but as her work as a con artist told her, everybody had a crack in the facade. An insecurity, a sorrow, something they buried behind the smile. Something to be exploited.

But these girls… they just seemed so _happy._ And all around her, random girls coming and going, handling tasks, greeting each other, all completely happy. Genuinely happy. The kind of happiness where Emerald didn’t feel her usual condescension, but that sad, slow ache of jealousy. The kind she felt seeing children with happy families. She’d never felt it for an _adult_ before, and that made her feel… it was hard to define.

But they were soon led into a dining room and took their seats at a long table. This, certainly, was a new development. Arc had made decent money as the town’s alchemist, but, living alone, he certainly never before had need of an expansive dining room, or such a large table. It all seemed to be built rather seamlessly, which spoke to the Myrmidons’ skills at carpentry that they’d been able to swiftly rebuild the whole structure for their needs without making it seem like anything had been changed at all.

Perhaps, a good metaphor for the whole situation.

She carefully took her seat beside Cinder and began scanning the room. There was a big chair, unsettlingly throne-like, at the head of the table, with an ant motif carefully carved into it. Cute, she supposed. Emerald supposed that this was just another sign of the Myrmidons’ non-combat abilities, unless she could also surmise that it might just be a sign that Arc had been planning this a long time, and had already had the materials ready.

They were soon joined by the rest of the party they’d be dining with. To the right of the big chair was Pyrrha, the original Myrmidon, and supposedly a magically transformed ant. To the left, Yang Xiao Long, Captain of the Guard and the first human to be turned into a Myrmidon… and looking quite a bit… _more_ than Emerald remembered her looking! Was she always that… busty? Emerald had to tear her eyes away, embarrassed at how flustered she’d gotten by the sight of an attractive woman. She moved along to their last two hosts, chastising herself for her slip: Ruby Rose, the town’s youthful blacksmith, along with the mercenary captain Nebula Violette. All with bobbing antennae to show their allegiance.

But the man of the house seemed to be missing.

She glanced over to Cinder, who recognized the issue as well. “Oh?” she asked politely, not giving her voice anything other than simple curiosity, “And where is Jaune? I did hope to enjoy dinner with him...”

“He’s currently speaking with a high-level prisoner,” Pyrrha responded, “He’ll be finishing shortly and joining us.”

But Emerald could see the way Rose struggled to seem neutral at that. She was suppressing a grin, and one that was easy enough to read. Arc was, apparently, having “fun” with the White Fang prisoner. She was capable enough not to show her _disgust,_ but she clearly knew exactly what they meant. “Nice,” she reminded herself, was not _good._

But, at least, they weren’t waiting long. Arc gave a bashful look as he entered, as though he’d simply hadn’t realized the time while he was reading in his study. He gave them a polite wave as he took his _throne_ at the head of the table and greeted them. “Cinder, Emerald, I’m glad you could join us for dinner. As you know, our situation is fraught, and any aid you can provide to feed, arm, and equip us against the-”

Cinder cut him off. “Oh, surely we can save business until _after_ we eat! Asking me to negotiate with that _heavenly_ scent,” Emerald struggled to keep her face neutral as the Myrmidon’s stiffened at _that_ word, “of baked salmon in the air would be _cruel,_ don’t you think?”

Emerald definitely felt something tickle her nose, and it wasn’t the fish. Pheromones. Well, they were starting aggressively, but Emerald knew that she still had the upper hand: they didn’t know that she was on to their game, and so long as she stayed focused, they didn’t stand a chance. Uniformed girls (Emerald idly wondered if all the Myrmidons were warriors, or if they were divided into “castes” with different roles) swiftly appeared at Jaune’s command, presenting a rather exquisitely-made meal, especially considering their limited supplies.

She was a little concerned about eating food from a brilliant alchemist who was actively brainwashing his entire town, but, as Cinder had rationalized, they likely wouldn’t try two different attempts to poison them, especially when the pheromones were far more subtle and less known. Taking a careful first bite, she didn’t detect anything out of the ordinary. Just very well prepared salmon, which, Emerald had to admit, she hadn’t been able to enjoy a good meal in a very long time.

Conversation over dinner remained polite and unimportant. The Myrmidons were smart, and they appeared to have the ability to communicate without speaking, and Jaune seemed to know enough to be afraid of saying too much to Cinder. Emerald stayed quiet, and kept her eyes on Rose and Pyrrha, who seemed content to leave the talking to Violette and Xiao Long. There was something… something she was supposed to be looking for, but she couldn’t quite remember _what._

But as dinner wrapped up, Cinder took her move. “Jaune?” she asked, her voice high and cheerful, “Would you mind if I spoke with your girls… privately? I think we have some _things_ to discuss where I think _they’d_ prefer if you didn’t hear it.”

A quiet series of looks were exchanged, but Emerald was finding it tough to stay focused. Especially when her eyes just kept getting glued to whoever she was looking at. Pyrrha or Xiao Long or… even _Jaune._ She’d never had an opinion of men like that, but she couldn’t help but try to imagine what he looked like under his clothes. He was really cute, wasn’t he? And nice… Emerald really wished she knew someone who was nice to her, like all these lucky ant girls.

But then he… slipped out, and she’d missed whatever it was he said (she was too busy getting distracted by the way Yang’s bountiful chest bounced as she turned) and suddenly, Cinder leaned forward, her tone suddenly harsh and businesslike. And… the Myrmidons...

They were… saying something… hard to listen to. A whole lot of words, and… there was something she was supposed to be doing? Or not doing? Something about focus? Emerald knew she wasn’t supposed to laugh right now, but she _really_ wanted to. Everything just seemed so silly right now, like there was this big joke that she knew about and nobody else did, and it would feel so good to laugh about it. She just felt… really happy!

She wasn’t supposed to be grinning, but she just couldn’t help herself. Looking around the room, the other girls, with their cute little antennae, looked like they’d find it funny, too. She could laugh, and they’d laugh, and then they’d all laugh together and then maybe she could kiss them a little?

 _That_ made her laugh. Where did _that_ thought come from! She didn’t wanna kiss anyone… well… she wanted to kiss Cinder. Wanted to kiss Cinder alllllllll over, and Cinder would tell her how good and pretty she was and maybe Cinder would kiss her on her li’l pussy? Wouldn’t that be fun? She giggled. She bet alllllll the nice ant girlies would think she was a really big slut if she did _that!_

She looked over to Cinder who smiled to her, and gave her a pat on the shoulder! Cinder was so nice...

“Could we have a reprieve from the pheromones, if you don’t mind? Poor Emerald’s almost completely out of it.”

Emerald… couldn’t follow what she meant? Something about the… smell things?

“Do they really...” the pretty redhead was saying, looking surprised, though Emerald wasn’t sure what she was worried about, cause she was really, really pretty, “not affect you?”

“Oh,” Cinder smiled, a big, toothy smile, “I am _very_ affected. But you agree, that makes it so inconvenient to negotiate...”

Emerald felt… weird. Something had changed, like she was waking up from a dream. Had they… was this the effect of the smells? Her eyes sluggishly swiveled around the room, whatever was going on seemed to have alarmed the Myrmidons, but she wasn’t sure what. Her head just felt so foggy...

“I must admit,” Cinder said, as she guided Emerald to lean on her shoulder, “I’m quite impressed with your operation. You’re very dangerous, and, I suspect, quite ambitious as well. I’d much rather be working _with_ you than _against_ you, and, if you’re after what I think you’re after, once the White Fang is gone… you’ll be needing considerable war materiel. And I could supply it, at a _very_ reasonable price.”

The blonde girl… the hot one with the really big titties looked at them harshly. “The swarm does not seek the aid of someone who is _not_ a sister. If you’d be willing to-”

“Become a Myrmidon? Oh, I’d _love_ nothing more. But… I must warn you, I’m a very dangerous woman,” she added, slyly, with a wicked grin “who’s very, very good at undermining things from the inside. At making things go _my_ way. And can you imagine if I was _compelled_ to do what I thought was best for Jaune?” Jaune was so _nice_ , Emerald thought with a giggle. She _loved_ Jaune! “So, you’ve got to decide… would you rather keep me close, or at arm’s length?”

The ant girlies looked between each other and… did something. She wasn’t sure what was going on anymore, she just felt… kinda sleepy and a little horny? Maybe a lot sleepy and a _lot_ horny. Especially cause everyone was really sexy here. And then the… redhead with the pretty hair, whats-her-name spoke up. “We’re willing to cut a deal. Ruby can explain what we’ll need to get our gunsmithing operation started, but in exchange, we’re willing to-”

Cinder cut her off. “Oh, I’ve already got an _excellent_ idea how I’d like to negotiate my fee.”

* * *

He’d never seen Pyrrha look afraid. He didn’t think it was _possible._ But as she led Cinder and her slightly-woozy assistant towards him, he couldn’t describe her face as anything other than nervous, at best.

“Jaune,” she addressed him, stiffly, like she was figuring out what she needed to say, “We’ve… made negotiations with Ms. Fall to ensure… her support in the conflict.”

Cinder gave a predatory grin that made him feel like he wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear, but he had to ask anyways. “And… what are we giving Ms. Fall for her support?”

“A very reasonable price, I assure you,” Cinder swiftly answered, “especially considering your current financial situation… You see, I want us to get along, Jaune. We can be _very good_ friends, you know,” and then she began to advance upon him, pushing past what Jaune would consider acceptable personal space.

He looked to Pyrrha, who attempted to explain. “Her offer is… reasonable. But, Ms. Fall has asked that you...”

But Cinder seemed to want to give her own explanation. “I wanted to start negotiations on a good foot,” she traced her finger up his chest, “and since _I’m_ willing to offer material support on a good price, I figured you could… meet me halfway?”

Jaune looked to Pyrrha, trying to keep his eyes away from Cinder’s, but her face was blank and inexpressive. And yet, he could clearly tell she was not a fan of—though could not stop—what was coming next. “I take it you mean-”

“Well, hot stuff,” she started, pushing him against the wall, “I wanted to see how good the man who could keep this whole _swarm_ happy had to be.”

“Wait, you want-” but he was cut off as her hand _aggressively_ reached down to cup and stroke his groin. Pyrrha looked slightly alarmed, but did nothing to stop it. Had they- had they _pimped him out_ as part of their negotiations?

“So… bedroom or right here?” she whispered, her breath tickling his ear, answering his question.

“B-bedroom,” Jaune managed to stammer out.

“Excellent.” And she headed right to it, eerily not needed Jaune or Pyrrha to tell her where it was, before she turned around. “Oh, and I asked your Pyrrha if she’d care to join us, but I’m sorry to say, she declined.”

Jaune glanced to Pyrrha, who blushed and looked away. She _really_ didn’t like this, and Jaune felt more dread going into his bedroom than he felt facing the White Fang. But as he stepped forward, reminding himself that they were going to need to anticipate a siege, and Cinder was their best bet to get the food, weapons, or emergency supplies they so desperately needed.

Pyrrha whispered _“Don’t trust her”_ as he left, though he already knew that. But, stepping into the bedroom, he saw as Cinder seemed to be… tucking Emerald into bed?

“You don’t mind if she rests here while we… enjoy each other? The bed’s certainly large enough,” she added with a laugh.

“Is she-”

“Oh,” she waved his concern off, “she just had a little too much of your girls at dinner. They’re really quite extraordinary, aren’t they? I don’t think I’ve _ever_ been this horny in my life!”

Jaune was shocked to hear her say that. Partially the crudeness, partially that she was admitting a possible weakness, partly because she seemed to be almost wholly unaffected by the concentrated pheromones of four Myrmidons, one of whom was Pyrrha and the other was _Yang._ What… what was Cinder _capable_ of?

“Are you just going to gawk?” she asked, and Jaune struggled to get out of his thoughts, “I was promised that you were _quite_ a lover, and I don’t want to be disappointed.”

And then, with a single gesture, her clothes seemed to just _fall_ off, all except for a lacy bra and panties, as she seated herself on the bed. “So,” she asked, “Interested?”

Yes. Yes he was. Both because Cinder was, admittedly, a very attractive woman, but for another reason entirely. Seeing her so prideful, so fearless as she entered his home, his bedroom, it really made him want to _put her in her place._ Jaune had a harem of beautiful women at his beck and call, and seeing one _resist_ him felt like mockery, and he had a feeling he had to answer it. Something _growled_ inside him as he looked at her sexy body and thought about what he wanted to do to it. To pay her back for the years of making him feel helpless in their business dealings and to end the night with another happy ant girl added to his swarm.

He undressed as he moved to join Cinder on the bed as she posed for him. Soon, they were kissing, passionately, his hands swiftly unclasping her bra and running all over her tender handfuls. Her breasts were smaller than Pyrrha’s (certainly smaller than Yang’s generous pair), but they were soft and perfectly proportioned, and _damn_ if Cinder wasn’t a good kisser...

Grinding her pussy against his cock, he could feel how soaked her panties were. Myrmidon pheromones might not have made her an obedient drone, but they _surely_ got her turned on. Hell, she was so drenched in their scents that Jaune could feel his own arousal spiking as her skin came into contact with his. He inhaled her scent, a faint trace of cinnamon tickling his nose, and he felt the blood rush southward.

He wasn’t sure who did it or how, but her panties were off, the sodden garment flung across the room as Jaune gripped Cinder’s shoulders and moved to mount her.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she interrupted, wagging her finger, “If we’re doing this, _I’m on top,_ okay?”

Fine by him. Jaune grunted his acceptance, letting Cinder slip on top of him and slowly lower her wet pussy to his cockhead. He saw her eyes widen in surprise at the feeling, the pheromones priming her to love his cock above all others, and then get even wider as he grabbed her hips and _yanked_ her down.

Now it was his turn to start talking. “Having fun?” he asked.

“Oh! Oh, Jaune!” she moaned as he thrust into her, “Yes, you’re quite- OH!”

He thrilled to hear as his dick finally shut her up. She bucked and moaned on top of him, her eyes clouded with lust, and Jaune… Jaune started to realize that Cinder was _very_ good at sex. As much as he forcefully controlled the pace, his fingers gripping deep into her posterior and his hips viciously _fucking_ her, _Cinder_ had his cock in the grip of her pussy, and she was quite _skilled_ at fucking him.

He was losing, he realized, losing control as Cinder’s talented pussy seemed to take control of him, as he felt himself surrender to pleasure. Jaune closed his eyes, moaning in pure contentment. Gods, she was _incredible..._

“Oh, _Emerald!_ ” Cinder suddenly cried, and Jaune opened his eyes to see a pair of mocha hands cupping and kneading Cinder’s pale breasts while Cinder’s green-haired subordinate kissed her mistress’s neck. Cinder moaned in pleasure, and Jaune couldn’t help but admire the contrasts they made. “Ooooh, Emerald, I think he _enjoys_ watching this.”

“Don’t care,” she murmured into Cinder’s cheek, “Only want _you.”_

“No need to be rude,” she teased her assistant, “But I’m so glad you finally decided to act on your little fantasies.”

“You- you knew!” a surge of panic seemed to wake her up from the remnants of her pheromone haze.

Cinder didn’t even slow down as she rode him, her tight pussy milking Jaune’s cock as she spoke. “Of course I knew. I know _everything,_ and I found it rather—oh yes, that’s good, play with my nipples, yes, like that!—flattering.”

Watching Cinder pull Emerald into a searing kiss was an amazing sight, _especially_ from the way that she didn’t let it interrupt or inhibit the way she was grinding on him. Jaune had had more sex with more women than he’d ever thought, women with amazing bodies and an _absolute_ commitment to his pleasure, but Cinder was a professional. Struggling to hold on, he felt his body begin to _jerk_ as she expertly brought him to the brink of climax.

And then… she stopped. His body, practically spasming in desire, rebelled against him, demanding he reach his peak, but Cinder placed a hand on his chest and looked him square in the eye. “You’re a good time, Arc, and you’re very cute, but _don’t forget who I am,”_ she snarled and Jaune felt the adrenaline flood his system, amplifying every inch of sensation, particularly the part where _she wasn’t letting him get off!_ But Cinder continued, “So we both want to be friends here. And we both want what’s best for _both_ of us.”

“Cinder, _please,”_ Jaune wheezed, “W-we can be friends! Whatever you-”

“That’s better,” she cut him off with a smile. Then, with a sudden _twist_ of her vaginal muscles, Jaune came, spurting like a fountain, his orgasm so potent it was almost _painful._ “Good boy,” she added, taking a moment to savor the feeling of his cum flooding her pussy, and then slipped right off of him, as he gasped and panted.

Reclining on the bed, Cinder spread her legs invitingly and gave her assistant a teasing look. “Emerald… be a dear and help clean me up… and,” she added, giving her legs a sexy squirm, “I’m hoping for another round, so make it _look good,_ okay?”

As Emerald eagerly surged forward to pleasure her mistress’s pussy, heedless of Jaune’s sperm currently stuffing it, Jaune felt his cock grow harder, equally hopeful for that second round.

* * *

He was the most powerful man in Beacon. He was an alchemist of exceptional skill. He officially held authority over every citizen of the town. There was a full battalion of some of the deadliest fighters in the world who gleefully obeyed his every command.

And yet, glancing over to the woman lying next to him, bathed in the afterglow of one of her several orgasms and with her subordinates arms wrapped tightly around her… Jaune felt that he was far outclassed in terms of power. He could order Pyrrha or Yang or any one of his girls in here… but, he reminded himself, that would be childish. She may have dominated him in the bedroom, but his wounded pride ensured they could afford her services when they needed her most.

And, he had to admit, it had been some _amazing_ sex.

The way Emerald could practically _cum_ from praise alone had been surprisingly hot, especially when he and Cinder both complimented the girl mercilessly, him telling her how beautiful she was, her cooing about what a good and helpful assistant she had been, and Emerald just _writhed_ in pleasure. And Cinder… gods, Cinder knew things about sex Jaune had never _imagined._ Yeah, he considered it a fair trade.

But he had to remind himself that there were things he couldn’t sit back idly on. “Cinder,” he said to his bedroom ceiling, not making eye contact, “What do you _want?”_

“What do _I_ want?” she laughed, “I told you: I chose you because you’re the more _interesting_ side, Jaune, and I’d rather like to see what you’re capable of once you’ve got firearms on your side. I’ll meet with your quartermaster, and we’ll see about supplying you with the raw materials to start a _real_ gunnery operation.”

 _That_ was the deal? Jaune had assumed food and arms for the fight, but... That didn’t... the wheels in his head were turning. “Wait… we couldn’t _possibly_ get an operation like that together before the White Fang were upon us.” He looked to her with alarm. “Cinder… what’s your game here?”

But she only smirked. “I told you. You’re the most interesting side, and I’d rather like to see what we could achieve together. And besides...” and her smirk got wider, revealing her shark’s teeth, “I _like_ you, Jaune. You and me… we’re good together. Just be smart about it, and we can have a lot of _fun_ together.”

He didn’t buy that answer. Not for a minute.

But he wasn’t sure he’d ever be getting a better one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, as always, to Renarde for feedback on the chapter


	9. Before the Battle

Jaune had never seen Beacon in a time of war.

But, even in his imagination, he didn’t think he’d ever pictured a time of war like this.

The whole town seemed to have been rebuilt almost overnight. It was a fortress now, a castle, with stone walls and defensive fortifications built at a speed he could scarcely explain. Well, not quite. The explanation was all around him, with the bobbing antennae and smiling faces of ant girls rushing to and fro, pausing only in their tireless labors to ask if he needed anything of them.

And, of course, he had nothing to ask of them that was more important than their tasks in defending the town, but Pyrrha and Yang had impressed upon him the importance of making the girls feel valued. A squeeze, a kiss, rewarding particularly hard working girls with a quickie—hard to imagine that _he_ was the one rewarding the gorgeous women who fawned over him, but Jaune was starting to adapt to the thinking of Myrmidons.

He hadn’t personally converted all of them, but he’d overseen most of their changes. He had quite the swarm now, a swarm of beautiful, tireless, amazing, and totally obedient warrior women. And they all loved him. Even those, like Arslan, who had others they adored still considered him their Master, and seemed to be almost _grateful_ to him for that.

And those who were _into_ him… he had found a piece of parchment slipped into his journal, “An Ode to my Master’s Grace,” written, of course, by Blake this morning, just in time to see the girl shyly shooting him a tender glance before ducking behind a wall. Blake was, at all times, a mess of contradictions. By far the most romantic of his harem, and shy as a schoolgirl _except_ in the bedroom, where she insisted on chains and flogs and punishment for her earlier “defiance.” 

Ruby was similarly contrasting in her service, but not as extreme as Blake was. He’d often catch her either cutely daydreaming, probably about him, _or_ waiting under his desk until he would sit down, unaware until he felt her hands unbuttoning his pants. She’d whisper to him all the things she wanted to do together—some sexual experiences, but mostly sweet, romantic things she’d long wanted to do with him—once the war was over, and it made him dearly wish that he could simply order it so. Make the world peaceful so that he could take Ruby on all the dates she’d dreamed of having with him.

And Pyrrha and Yang… the girls nearest and dearest to his heart, he saw less and less of. He’d ordered it that way, of course, that they could not afford to have the leadership of the Myrmidons prioritizing anything over the defense of Beacon. But it was rare that they shared his bed now and… he missed them. They’d made sure that it wasn’t empty, and they clearly used it as a motivator to reward girls. Last night, he’d been joined by Nebula and Gwen, who’d apparently had a relationship before they were Myrmidons and found adding a particular third wheel made things even better.

If it wasn’t for the fact that he had an oppressive and inescapable sense that the White Fang would soon be here, this would be some kind of teenage sexual fantasy, some idle dream of a paradise where all the women he grew up knowing suddenly decided that his sexual gratification was their highest priority.

But even as he cupped and fondled an eager brunette’s chest while Miss Goodwitch _(Miss Goodwitch!)_ looked on, enviously, he realized what should be an adolescent wet dream was inescapably marked by that sense of the inevitable horde. The thought of the coming White Fang force, and the 

He never thought that pleasuring a beautiful woman could be something he was doing out of _duty,_ and yet, that was what it was.

Not that the girl in his arms had any complaints. “Mmmm, oh, Master, your hands feel _so good_ on my chest,” she sighed, “Please, keep playing with my titties, you’ve almost made- almost- almo- _OH YES!”_

He saw a flash of envious stares as the Myrmidon in his arms giggled woozily as he led her over to a nearby bench to let her catch her breath. And, he had to admit, once the moment of envy had passed, the girls were working _much_ harder at setting up the barricades.

* * *

The word was clear. There’d be a battle tomorrow. And Sun Wukong, who prided himself on having seen a little of everything the world had to offer, found that this was one thing he really didn’t want to experience.

Doubly so, because if he saw the fighting, it meant that the first line of defense had failed. Non-Myrmidon forces were staying behind the walls, preparing for a siege or a maneuver that might have bypassed their forces in the field. If he was lucky, it’d just be chasing away some skirmishers. If not... 

But, he supposed, he seemed to be the only one of his fellows who was concerned. And wasn’t that strange, the _he_ was the dour one. Ah, well, perhaps they had a point. No use worrying about the future if you can’t prevent it. Neptune certainly wasn’t worried, not when he had a girl in each arm- no, correction, he had an _ant_ girl in each arm. A Myrmidon. Sun had to idly wonder if there were any girls in town who _hadn’t_ become Myrmidons, because no names sprang to mind.

But these two seemed rather eager to be fondled by Neptune, which he was doing with gusto. Neptune’s behavior wasn’t surprising, he’d been trying to get into an ant girl’s pants since the Indigo Banner showed up with antennae. But what _was_ surprising was that the girls were letting him. For all his (deserved) reputation as a lady’s man, he hadn’t had any luck with the Myrmidons. Sun suspected they simply didn’t have time for humans—or perhaps, anyone other than _one particular_ human. He knew Yang had the hots for Arc since long before she took the potion, but a lot of girls seemed to have fallen head over heels for the town’s other notable blond.

It’d seem unsavory if they weren’t the last line of defense between him and an army of zealots.

“Heavy thoughts?”

He turned to see Arslan, holding two mugs of ale. She passed one to him, which he gratefully took. “Last night before battle, Sun. Might as well enjoy yourself.”

“What has the world become,” he laughed, “That _you’re_ telling _me_ I have to lighten up!”

Arslan laughed, her antennae bobbing merrily. Ah, yes, that’s what the world had become. But she drank her ale and, wiping the foam off her lips, looked square at him. “You’re going to be fine, you know. We’ll meet them in the field, and we’ll win. You don’t have to worry.”

It was true—Jaune’s orders (though, he suspected, he merely said what Yang or Pyrrha told him to say) were that the Myrmidons would be meeting the White Fang force at an encampment outside of town, to take advantage of some geographical… things Sun hadn’t really been paying attention to, because his orders were to remain at town to handle any skirmishers, or to hold off an unexpected flank, or… if the Myrmidon force had to retreat. That last option filled him with dread. If the Myrmidons couldn’t beat the Fang, they wouldn’t have much hope of stopping them, even with their new fortifications. And their enemy would be _furious_ from the losses the Myrmidons would surely incur.

So much to worry about in this world.

“I can worry about you,” he gruffly replied.

Arslan smiled, and gestured for him to drink his ale. “You’re sweet, Sun,” she said as he took a big swig, “But we’ve scouted their forces, know them better than they could imagine, and...” her eyes sparkled mischievously, which, for the first time, made Sun wonder just how much his stoic friend and on-and-off lover had been changed by that potion, “we’re much, much stronger than what they’re expecting. We’re winning this battle. You’ll see.” 

Her behavior was slightly off, but her confidence buoyed his spirits at a time when he desperately needed it. So he forced himself to give her a wide grin. “Wanna place a bet on it? I’ll bet a week’s rations you’ll come back unharmed.”

“I’ll take that action,” she said with a laugh, placing her hand on his and giving it a gentle squeeze.

They didn’t love each other. Their relationship had never been about love. But he’d always cared for her, and he knew she’d cared for him. And right now, he very much appreciated that care.

“A roll in the hay?” he asked, “For old time’s sake?”

Arslan gave him a wry smile. “You know what? Sure.”

* * *

Loyalty.

She had thought she had known what the word meant.

She was loyal to the cause. Loyal to her brothers and sisters in arms. Loyal to… loyal to Adam.

But what did it mean now? Blake felt herself divided between two loves. Yes, she loved her Myrmidon sisters and her Duty far more than she loved her former cause, but she still did care for them. Even Adam. Adam, for all his cruelty and misguided vanities, was still someone she loved. He needed to be contained, for the good of the world and the good of all Faunus, and he opposed her Master, which could not be tolerated, and his crimes against her and others _needed_ to be answered, and yet… If only there was another way. She just wished that they wouldn’t be brought into this conflict, if it was possible that they could see what she had seen, learned what she had learned.

But war was coming, and nothing could be done to stop it.

She stood on the ramparts, admiring the craftsmanship of the new crenelations and defenses built by her sisters. Even the White Fang’s firearms would find Beacon a difficult position to besiege, but if it came to that…

Her thoughts on the battle plans were interrupted as she saw another figure had come to join her on the wall. Someone who, as her heart beat quicker, she’d been wanting to talk to, but too afraid to make her move. The only person who made her heart beat like she was looking at Jaune.

“Hey, Ruby!” she called across to her, trying to keep her voice and pheromones from signaling how nervous she was. “Everything alright?”

The girl startled to hear her voice. “Oh! H-hi, Blake!” she forced out, “I was just… coming out to find a place to think.”

“Oh, I can leave you be if you-”

“No! I- I mean, I’d like to talk, if you’d be willing to.”

“Of course,” she said. And she’d meant it.

Ruby was everything unlike her. Well, that wasn’t true. She had so many of the things Blake prized in herself—Ruby was curious and passionate and valued history and culture, but she was also sweet and open and _okay_ with the fact that she didn’t have all the answers. Where Blake’s love of literature had made her too haughty to realize Adam’s obvious derangement, Ruby’s love of her craft had made her open to others.

Working together with Ruby, originally to explain to her what she knew about guns and gunsmithing, but soon just as her frequent companion, had taught Blake that she was a very remarkable young woman. A prodigy, and she, like Blake, knew the pressure of living up to the expectations that came from youthful excellence. But she was also cheerful, inquisitive, industrious, and so many other things that set her apart from Blake’s quiet aloofness, but she couldn’t help but feel a kinship with her.

And Blake had to admit, she was someone who was not the simple pollyanna she might come off as. Ruby had confided in Blake about losing her mother as a child, and her father as a teenager, and yet, those losses were what made her open and optimistic, trying to live up to the stories she’d heard about her mom from those who knew her, or to keep her dad’s optimistic and giving personality still going in the world. For Blake, who’d ran away from home because she wanted the fame and glory and was blinded to Adam’s faults, she saw in Ruby someone to admire and… maybe more than just that.

Maybe a whole lot more than that.

She and Ruby both took a seat, hanging their legs over the battlements. She could taste anxiety and nervousness, and she was sure Ruby could taste the same from her. Though if Ruby was anxious because she was sitting next to a pretty girl, well, Blake didn’t think she’d be so lucky.

“Whatever you have to ask me,” she told her sister, resting her hand on hers, “it’s better to just get it out. You’ll feel a lot better once you have.”

“Have you...” her voice dropped, low and ashamed, in a way that made Blake just want to take the younger girl in her arms and kiss away all her fears, “Have you ever been in a battle before?”

“I have,” she admitted. She wasn’t a battle-scarred veteran, but she’d fought in multiple skirmishes, and the rout of Lord Winchester’s forces. She’d heard the whistle of arrows, the clash of blades, and the crack of gunfire. And all the other realities of battle. “It’s not… pleasant.”

“Were you ever scared?”

Blake paused. But what else could she say?

“...yes, I was. I’ve been scared before every battle I’ve fought in. I’m scared for tomorrow, too.”

But her confession seemed to make Ruby relax a little, both in her posture and scent. She looked up to Blake with a half-smile. “So I’m not the only one?”

She squeezed her hand. “Not at all. Everybody gets scared. Even Yang and… maybe not Pyrrha, but it’s normal to be afraid. What matters,” and she took a deep breath, realizing she was talking to herself as much as to Ruby, “is that you still do what you have to do. Even when it’s scary, even if you’ve gotten scared away before... ”

Ruby nodded, thinking through her words. She looked up to Blake, a nervous tremor in her eyes. “I just… Sometimes I think about all the things I still want to do, the things I haven’t done yet, and I… I really hope I still get the chance to do them.”

“We all have things we want to come home for. Reasons why we have to win. But some things we… just can’t wait on. We never know the future, least of all with a battle. Just have to do what we can in the time we know we have.” _Tell her. Just tell her. Be brave and TELL HER._ She castigated herself for her cowardice, and yet… she said nothing.

“There’s something… I’ve been wanting to do… just in case, and...” she looked up to Blake, a hopeful gleam in her eye, a familiar scent on the wind, “I hope you’ve been wanting to do it too?”

Blake was caught in stunned disbelief as she pieced together the meaning of Ruby’s words. She wanted… And, on the battlements, illuminated by silvery moonlight, she kissed Ruby. Tapping her antennae to hers, she poured out all of her love for her Myrmidon sister and felt it reciprocated. She had the loveliest taste of any woman she’d ever known, more than Pyrrha, more than her sister. Her soft, delicate lips, the quiet eagerness she could feel about to burst forth, tempered by the nervous energy of exploring her feelings...

Blake had never kissed anyone like this. Not even Jaune, who had already redefined the meaning of love in her mind. She felt like her whole world was opening up, like all possibility was blossoming upon her lips. She tasted like strawberries, a perfect sweetness that made Blake wonder what a world this was, that she could be so lucky to taste _this._

Nimbly undressing the girl in her arms, she was rewarded with the sight of Ruby’s exposed beauty. She was young, but not delicate. A blacksmith by trade, Blake could see the defined musculature even in her slender arms. Ruby was quick to return the favor, and they both took a moment to admire each other. Blake, her face flushed with desire and pride, couldn’t believe how warm, how welcomed she felt in what should be the enemy side. She loved her sisters, loved _Ruby,_ more than she’d ever known love before.

But Blake knew that Ruby was an impatient girl, and she was all too quick to rush forward. Blake gasped with pleasant surprise as Ruby buried her face in her chest, small handfuls, nothing compared to Yang, but so grateful for Ruby’s eager kisses. She grazed a nipple with her teeth and flicked it with her tongue, as Blake cooed in pure delight. She stroked Ruby’s hair, whispering encouragement to her new sweetheart.

Ruby’s enthusiastically forced Blake onto the battlements and eagerly parted her legs. “Someone’s excited...” Blake giggled.

“Can you blame me?” Ruby smirked back, “I don’t know if I’ll get another chance!”

Blake, though, reached out to stroke Ruby’s cheek and pull her up to look her in the eye. “We’ll get another chance—a lot more chances! You and me, we’re coming back. The both of us.”

A nervous tremor passed across Ruby’s face. “Do you really think so?”

“I know so,” Blake said, hoping her words gave some confidence to the younger girl, “We’ve both got too much to live for. And when I’m on that battlefield, I’ll be fighting so that we can try and have a real relationship, to _really_ get to know each other.”

Ruby’s silver eyes, such beautiful silver eyes, watered for a moment, and then her smirk returned. “And I’ll be fighting so we get a chance to do a _lot_ of things I’ve only read about in books. After all, if you’re a fan of _The Wanderer’s Romance,_ then-”

“Then we’ll definitely be reenacting the love of Sibyl and Seraphina?”

Ruby sighed, pleasantly imaging the two of them recreating that passionate love scene, but then she giggled. “I was actually thinking Gwendoyln and Isidore.” Surprising! But Blake could certainly see where she was coming from, the knight Gwendolyn and the dark witch Isidore certainly had some similarities with them... “But I guess we’ve still got so much to talk about.”

Gently stroking Ruby’s hair, she agreed, “We sure do.”

“Mind if I get back to this, though?”

“By all means!” Blake giggled.

And Ruby dove in with gusto, leaving her squealing in delight. “Oh, _Ruby!”_ she cried, feeling the girl’s rather exquisite tongue tease and explore her folds. “Keep going, k-keep- _oh!”_ she cried as Ruby found her clit and let her tongue dance and flick over it. “You’re so good!” she gasped.

Ruby took her praise enthusiastically as she vigorously ate her out. Mercy! Her inexperience was more than made up for with her relentless energy. Blake slipped her fingers into Ruby’s dark red hair, pushing her face even closer into her pussy. It felt so _right_ to make love to her—and that’s what they were doing. Making love. Like she used to do with Adam, before his ego and domineering attitude took over their entire relationship. But Blake had been freed from her former life and its limitations, and as Ruby brought her over the edge to her powerful orgasm, Blake’s mind was bursting with a deep love and gratitude for her dear, wonderful Master, for her Myrmidon sisters, and, above all, for _Ruby,_ showing her that Blake could still love and be loved!

Taking a moment to catch her breath, Blake looked down admiringly on Ruby, smiling up from between her legs. It was time to return the favor, and so Blake guided Ruby onto the walk, appreciating the way her face was still wet with her juices, and the way her naked body contrasted so nicely with the stonework. But there’d be time to gaze upon her later, after they’d returned from the battle, when they could celebrate their victory. She’d have Ruby pose for her, and she had at least a dozen different roles she was eager to try out in the bedroom. But right now, she had to repay Ruby for her orgasm, and so she gave it her all as she ate her out.

Ruby, innocent, virginal Ruby, was hardly able to control herself against the more experienced Blake’s skillful oral. There were a few tricks she’d learned from Ilia—and thinking of that name made Blake realize that she’d look rather tasty with a pair of antennae—back when they experimented with each other, and Ruby wasn’t even remotely prepared for them. Her orgasm was swift, and Blake flavored the scent of her arousal, the sound of her cries, and the taste of her cum as Ruby joyfully came.

She held Ruby in her arms looking out over the battlements and the land stretching off to the horizon. Far away, the White Fang were encamped, on their way to battle. But tonight, it was peaceful, the stars and the moon shining down on them.

The future was a great unknown. Whether they’d have another night together, whether they’d return to Beacon in victory or retreat or even at all… she didn’t know. But she had something to fight for. For Beacon. For the Faunus. For Jaune. For her sisters. And… for Ruby. And so she knew she’d fight harder than she’d ever fought before. To make sure they had a future. For all of them.

Especially her new girlfriend, happily drifting off to sleep in her arms.

* * *

The kiss was passionate and forceful, but she was used to that. Yang did nothing in half measures, least of all what they were up to now, in Master’s bedroom. But though they did everything they could to distract from the reality of what was outside, Pyrrha couldn't escape the feeling of the calm before the storm. Jaune was the same. The slightest hint, even as faint as humans were, of desperation could be traced in his scent. Tomorrow was battle—and even she didn’t know if they’d be coming back.

Jaune had set her into a new crisis of Duty: she was to protect _him_ and his _home,_ but she was also to obey him, and he had demanded that she prioritize her victory in the field. Not a single Myrmidon was to be spared from the main force, not even for protecting his person. And yet… it wasn’t Duty that made her struggle against that order. No, it was Duty—it was the very underpinning of Duty. Love. She loved Jaune. Loved him more dearly than anything else in the world.

He was not her Creator, because she existed before him. But that made him even dearer, more worthy, because she knew how miserable and pointless her previous existence had been, one of thousands, faceless, mindless, a life without love, and then she’d been raised up to be _his._ What gratitude could contain the vastness of her feelings? How could she feel anything _but_ a bottomless, all-encompassing love and purpose in him?

She kissed Yang, her beautiful Queen, who had been there, the second human she’d ever seen, when Jaune elevated her from her meager and futile existence as an ant. That she could find _another_ that she adored so wholly was extraordinary, almost unbelievable. Jaune’s command, to “fulfil Yang’s desires” still burned in her chest, a purpose, empowered by her Duty, that she gladly carried out as she wrestled with her Queen’s tongue.

It reminded her of their struggle in Jaune’s home, back when she was the only Myrmidon. Nearly her full lifetime ago, and so much had changed. Yang was much stronger now, but… Pyrrha still didn’t lose. And much like the last time, Yang, her glorious Queen, accepted the joys of her submission as Pyrrha forced her down and dominated her.

Breaking from the kiss, Yang gasped for air. “Pyrrha,” she panted, “Pyrrha won.”

And Jaune laughed, the sound making Pyrrha’s heart melt as she fell in love with him all over again. “I just asked you who wanted to go first. You really didn’t have to make it a contest!”

“I still won,” she replied, a slight trace of smugness crossing her face as she looked down on her defeated Queen.

“I suppose you did,” Jaune said with a smile as he joined her on the bed. He pulled her into a kiss, gentle and warm, in full contrast to Yang’s forceful exploration of her mouth, but Pyrrha simply melted into submission from the feel of his lips on hers.

He pushed her down, and she loved the feel of his naked skin on hers. The softness of the moment, feeling his weight press into her and her body merely give way without resisting. The hardness she could feel rubbing against her from between his legs. His lips moved from hers, leaving her gasping as he kissed her neck, her shoulders, her breasts, his tongue lovingly caressing a nipple, his lips pressing into her breast. When he entered her, it easily slid in, her lips parting in a soft _oh,_ as she felt him claim her.

Their sex was romantic and tender, Jaune treating her not like a warrior, but a maiden. He claimed her like she was his beloved, and the thought enraptured her as much as the way he pleasured her. Everything he meant to her was poured out in this moment as she surrendered all her strength, all her being to the man taking her. She gripped the sheets tightly as her Master thrust into her, feeling their bodies unite in the moment as they became one.

Tomorrow, she would be his warrior. Tomorrow, she would win honor and glory for him, revealing to the world the strength of the Myrmidons and the might of their love. But tonight, she was his lover, his woman, and had no Duty, no purpose, other than to be united with him in this moment and experience the pleasure and connection of their love.

Yang had slipped in to join them, wrapping her arms around her husband, pressing her breasts into his back and trailing soft kisses wherever she could reach. Pyrrha could taste the pheromones, and while their arousal was strong, far stronger was the taste of cherished love. She had learned so much about sex and sexuality, pleasure and joy in the short time she’d been a Myrmidon. Some sex was wild and passionate, with an explosive finale. But this was a slow, loving connection, and she felt the slow build of her orgasm, and as she crested it, she cried out in joy as she felt pleasure wash over her.

Like a tide, it dragged her helplessly along, her mind briefly washed away as she drifted in a daze, the pleasant rhythm of his length sliding in and out of her was the only sensation she felt or desired, feeling it’s pace increase until a sudden, sharp jerk… and then a warm fullness as he released in her. She moaned, appreciatively, her mind still adrift on the sea of perfect adoration and completeness.

She reclined, enjoying the bliss as she idly watched Yang take her Master’s rod of authority in her mouth, cleaning, licking, and polishing his scepter until it was hard enough to nestle between her boobs and let Yang nurse it back to health. She cooed at it encouragingly, giving it love and gentle kisses until it was quickly back to strength.

But Yang did not want sweet and romantic. As soon as Jaune was back to his full hardness, she sprang away with a giggle, pressing her face down into the soft mattress and raising her ass for her Master’s approval, giving it a wiggle and a hearty spank to entice him… and Pyrrha.

Pyrrha spread her legs and pressed forward her pussy, with Jaune’s load still dripping out, for her Queen’s tongue to service. As she eagerly lapped at her clit, Jaune took her from behind, the three of them connected by bonds physical, magical, emotional, and ephemeral, a swirl of scents and sensations, memories and mysticism, all coming together into a moment of dearest love and connection.

The feel of Jaune’s rough thrusts traveling through Yang’s body and making her face buck against Pyrrha’s delta brought her to orgasm, but Yang refused to let her rest, letting her tongue dexterously lash at her weakest points. The feeling of her, the greatest warrior alive, being defenseless before her Queen and Master brought her to another orgasm, and then another. She and Yang were flooding the room with their scent, and she was sure any Myrmidons who passed by their room would be swiftly drawn into uncontrollable arousal. An orgy before battle would be quite appropriate, Pyrrha briefly mused.

But it was impossible to have any real thoughts, not while Jaune was going wild on the Queen, fucking her until she was unable to concentrate on her oral ministrations, far too silly to do much more than mindlessly lap as her Master brought her to climax after climax. The could no longer control themselves, and simply gave way to their wild, primal desire.

The rest of the night was a blur, until Jaune finally yielded to exhaustion. She and Yang guided their half-insensate Master to the pillows, and Yang embraced him as Pyrrha brought fresh sheets to drape over them, and a carafe of herb-infused water that she helped Jaune drink. Wouldn’t be good to have him dehydrated before he commanded their battle.

After that, she watched as Jaune and Yang lay asleep in each others’ arms. They looked content, like they’d wound up where they were always supposed to be. And Pyrrha took no small amount of pride in bringing their relationship together. But her Queen and her Master had earned so much more than what Pyrrha had already won them. The White Fang was not a threat, but a convenience. Beacon was only the beginning.

She had plans. Plans for the future of the swarm, plans to carry out her Duty, for the protection of Beacon and the _love_ of her Master. She and Yang had long discussed what the next plan was, once the emergency had been dealt with. She had spoken with Ruby and Blake and Nebula, quietly bringing them into the fold, even sent a secret message to Raven. And, yes, she had had… limited contact with Cinder Fall on their long term plans.

She would see Cinder Fall _pay_ for her arrogance. For treating her beloved so disrespectfully. She had vowed that night that she would see _that_ _woman_ broken before her, begging for her Master’s mercy… and she would be _denied_ it.

But that thought, as pleasant as it was, would have to wait. There was time enough to imagine her victory, but she had to rest now if she wanted to achieve it. She pulled herself close to her Master, sliding under the covers and marveling at the man who was so dear to her, and had so changed her life.

She would win him glory tomorrow as his Champion. But tonight, she won his heart as his beloved. And she was enjoying the spoils of that victory right now, holding him in her arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Among all the ant girls, there's space for a little Ladybug :)
> 
> Thanks to Renarde for feedback on this chapter!


	10. By Any Means Necessary

Hatred and vengeance were a language Adam Taurus spoke fluently.

His mind was always swirling with memories, constantly reconstructing and reliving past wrongs, remembering what had been done to him so he could best plot his retaliation. To think of the future was important, but it was the past that made him angry, made him strong, and he dwelt there often. Every slight, from smallest to largest would be repaid, and he found this to be a good way to focus himself on his goals. And right now, he could see it so clearly, see every single moment, every decision, every mistake, that had led him to where he was now.

Adam had never before known what it was to be on the other side of facing him.

The march had worn them down. Bandits struck, far more disciplined and organized than the rabble he was used to, and they struck at their supply train, seemingly more content to sow chaos than to plunder. Their supplies were already low, and that brought his mind, inescapably to Blake. Blake, who had warned him about their predicament; Blake, who had disappeared. Was she captured? Killed? Or had he pushed her too far? Had she run? The thoughts plagued Adam as he traveled, and began to neglect his duties. His agitation grew worse, and without Blake to talk him down from his rages, even his lieutenants began to fear speaking to him.

But battle… battle would fix things. He would unleash his rage upon the enemy, tear them apart in the open field where they couldn’t retreat into the forest before he got a chance to taste their blood. Blood, smoke, and steel, that was what he needed. He would fill his lungs with sulfur and paint himself in his foe’s blood before rending this town, this... “Beacon” to rubble.

How foolish he had been.

He’d seen them in a phalanx, a smaller force than his scouts anticipated, but he’d chalked that up to the wild rumors and those damnable bandits harrying his scouting forces. But they were ill equipped to handle his forces, much less a musket line. All he needed to do was unleash lead and fire and hell upon them and their antiquated forces would crumple.

That’s when the ground _quaked_ with a muffled blast, the very land collapsed beneath them, and, like the pits of Hell opening all around them, a swarm of demons poured forth. All about them, all _women,_ all with Faunus antennae, boiling forth like ants from a disturbed anthill. Arrows whistled in the air as the bandit clan that had been harrying them burst out of the woods, and the phalanx surged across the field. It was a trap, and his army, drunk on easy victories and expecting only tepid resistance, was caught off guard for an enemy that closed ranks this quickly. They collapsed into a panic, his musket line fleeing in fear while these warriors cut through his army like a threshing scythe! Like that foolhardy idiot’s armies only weeks before… the Grand Army of the White Fang had been undone in an instant, set to rout by a force they had never anticipated.

Still, he was Adam Taurus! He clashed swords with the warrior women, fighting a red-haired woman who came at him with furious strength and skill. He’d give her this—she was an astounding fighter, possibly even better than he was. But Adam also knew that he was up against the wall, with no retreat, and that desperation made him dangerous. He grabbed a subordinate who was attempting to flee and flung the coward at the woman. She staggered back from the unexpected blow and Adam lurched forward-

Only for his blade to meet steel. A blonde woman cut him off before he could push his advantage. But she wasn’t her fellow’s equal, and, fueled by his boundless rage, Adam hacked and hacked and hacked, swinging furiously, tearing at the woman and forcing her back, forcing her to stumble and fall, and with no defenders-

He caught an arrow in the hand, the arrowhead perfectly aimed to make his hand useless, causing his sword to tumble out of his hand. But he felt no pain. A sword wasn’t necessary. Rage was enough. The battle was lost, but he’d kill this whore for what she’d taken from him, for his lost army, his lost _destiny!_ He fell on her, his hand tightly wrapped to her throat, easily crushing her windpipe as he took his last revenge.

But then he heard a voice. A voice that he knew. The one voice that could distract him from this vengeance. He whirled to see _Blake._

Blake, wearing armor and bearing a sword. Their armor. Their swords. And upon her forehead, just like the rest of this wretched army of monsters, sat a pair of antennae.

There was only one meaning Adam could draw from it.

She had betrayed him.

Even now it made his rage burn hot in his chest, but then, he had gone berserk. Bellowing and screaming, he raced over to her, his fury blinding him to everything but the woman in front of him. Had an arrow struck him? It mattered not. He’d kill her, he’d repay her for this treachery with blood. His only regret was that he couldn’t make it _hurt._

But his rage made him artless as she dodged his swings. No matter. She couldn’t dodge forever, and his charge knocked the sword from her hand. She slashed his arm with a knife. No matter. It still worked! She ducked his arm and buried a knife in his chest! NO MATTER! Because he _swung,_ and _this_ one made contact! Her armor crumpled beneath his fist, his fury-

He lurched backwards, confused, as he realized a net was looped around him. Two women, the red haired warrior and a dark haired woman in a red cloak were pulling him back. He struggled, but they were strong—impossibly strong! And his rage only got him further tangled as he felt Blake leap onto his back and, with a single blow to the back of his head, knock him unconscious.

And now he was awake, bound to a table in a dark room. Stripped naked and gagged. He didn’t want to imagine what they were planning to do to him. Everything from torture to cannibalism seemed to be on the table, but he knew not to dwell on it. Focus on the past, not the future. The future only fed false hope and fears, and fear would give him _nothing,_ while anger would give him strength. He was Adam Taurus, dammit! The savior of the Faunus! The last hope of-

And then he felt something.

Something… soft and wet on his chest, but not like a rag, like a- and then he looked.

It was Blake.

And she was naked.

As she ran her tongue up his chest, he realized that he’d had this dream before. The great contradiction of Blake: the woman who he desired so much, and the power that desire gave her over him, played out in a drama that moved him to lust, desire, pity, and rage. But it wasn’t a dream. No, this was real. She had those antennae, those _monstrous_ antennae, bobbing and feeling him, their soft touch tickling his skin as she worshipped his body.

He struggled against his bonds and tried to chew through his gag.

Blake looked up, but past him. Someone was behind him? “He’s ready,” she said, dispassionately, like he was merely a prisoner of war and not her dearest love. What had these monsters _done_ to her? How could they-

A sharp pain immediately stung his shoulder, and he swiveled his head to see a needle had been injected into him. It stung for an instant, but then… nothing. What was it, poison? A sedative? Truth serum? But he only had a moment to speculate before he felt its monstrous effects.

* * *

He had finally finished treating the last injury. It had seemed so daunting, but he had to marvel—that had been a considerable battle, and yet, scarcely any casualties among Beacon’s defenders. Most fatalities were militia who'd met a skirmishing force of the White Fang that circled around to try and ambush the defenders. Not a single Myrmidon had fallen, though some had taken some injuries that, despite their protests, had not been minor at all.

But for Jaune, once the battle was over, there were no sides. The only dividing line was between the living and the dead, and he had thrown himself into trying to keep as many of the White Fang’s wounded on the side of the living. Thank the gods, and he couldn’t believe he was saying this, that Cinder had been able to supply them with sufficient materials for stitches, antiseptic salves, and curative poultices, and he’d spent hours stitching wounds and saving as many Faunus as he could.

Many of them had been surprised by his treatment. Not because he was a human, or even because he was an enemy, but because they’d faced the Myrmidons in battle and seemed to have assumed that Beacon was the home of some dread Warlock, binding a host of demons to loose upon the world. He’d had to reiterate to more than a few panicked soldiers that he wasn’t keeping them alive so that they could be sacrificed later. From the wild tales they’d shared of a cult in the woods, he had to assume Raven was behind the fear tactics… or she’d actually converted her clan into a terrifying woods cult, that was also possible.

But better than it ought to have been or not, he was exhausted. Jaune wanted to just go to bed, but, he reminded himself, he still had work to do. There was still… there was still _something_ left to do.

He staggered, as he exited his makeshift infirmary, leaning hard against the wall. He was a lot more tired than he thought, and he felt the enormity of all his stress and weariness release into his body all at once. He exhaled, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. He hadn’t even _fought_ in the battle, and yet, he felt like the adrenaline and fear coursing through his veins was enough for fighting an entire war.

“Hey, hero,” came a familiar voice.

He looked up to see her, and to feel like all his troubles were far away.

It was Yang. Beautiful, perfect, _heroic_ Yang. The torchlight framing her gloriously as she stood before him like a Warrior Queen, which, he supposed, she truly was. But she’d always been this, hadn’t she? His protector, his hero, his beloved Yang. The girl he’d created a Myrmidon for, to repay her for all she’d done for him.

“You were the hero,” he grunted, too tired to really converse.

She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into her soft and tender embrace. He sank into her arms, feeling her body radiating comfort and warmth. She stroked his hair “Rest now,” she soothed, “I’m taking you to bed where you can _rest.”_

“No… more to do, gotta-”

“No.” Her voice was forceful, commanding, even, and Jaune was startled to hear her take that tone with him. “You’re going to hurt yourself if you don’t rest, and I know what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to prove to yourself that you contributed, but Jaune,” and she looked him square in the eye, with those beautiful lilac eyes, “You did this. All of this. All I’ve been able to think about is, ‘what would have happened if I only had the militia,’ and I _know_ what would have happened. Beacon would have fallen. We all would have died. But we didn’t, because of _you._ Because you did the impossible, you made us Myrmidons. And all of us, the _whole town,_ owes you our _undying_ gratitude.”

He felt tears come to his eyes as he heard Yang’s sweet words. But he wasn’t able to accept it. Some part of him... still resisted her gratitude. “But I didn’t… you were out there… in the danger, and I-”

“Jaune...” she stroked his hair as she clasped him to her breasts, his face sinking into her soft, generous pillows, “You’ve only ever given me a single order, in all the time you’ve had me _utterly_ at your beck and call… and that order was to _protect others,_ even if it put you at risk.”

Jaune wasn’t sure where she was going with this, but he was too tired and her chest was too inviting to do anything other than rest in her embrace.

“It doesn’t matter if you fought or not, you risked your _life_ for Beacon—Pyrrha and I, if you hadn’t… hadn’t told us not to prioritize your safety, we probably would have just spirited you away. Retreated into the woods. Made sure you were safe, without regard for anyone else. But you wouldn’t let that happen. You made the army, you gave the command, you’ve worked yourself to the bone trying to help people!” She pulled him into a tighter hug. “And that’s why I love you, Jaune. You’re a good man, above all else. You _deserve_ this.”

He murmured appreciatively in response, too far out of it to make words. Yang giggled, “Sleepy? Well, let’s just get you to bed then, hero.”

She led him to their bedroom, laying him down gently on the big bed. And there, cradled in her arms, Jaune slowly fell asleep.

* * *

It felt like- like he was burning from the inside! Adam struggled against his bonds, adrenaline, fear, and panic amplifying his strength, but to no avail. His screams were muffled into his gag as Blake straddled him and placed a comforting hand on his chest. “There, there,” she said patiently, “don’t worry, you’ll be _alllll_ better soon.”

Even with those monstrous antennae, he couldn’t _help_ but be soothed by Blake’s voice, like this was just another of his episodes, when the rage took him too far. But then the pain _surged_ again, a sudden pain in his chest and a stab of pain in his forehead left him writhing on the table in panic.

It was his- his- _it was like his dick was on fire!_ What were they- was this _torture?_ But Blake just gave him a sympathetic look, stroking his forehead, _grinding her hips against his chest,_ and telling him it’d be over soon, that the pain would cease. Whatever they had injected him with, it burned and stabbed and tore through his whole body, leaving him ragged and pulled apart. His chest felt like it was about to burst, his lower half felt like he was imploding, it was everything happening at once and it was _pain unspeakable!_ It was like every nerve was fraying, like there was some uncontrollable grinding and shifting in his body!

_What more pain could they put him though?_

And with that thought, he felt something like a great wind, like a tornado within himself, spinning up to a full fury and then… it was finished.

He gasped. Where, where was- was he? He? That wasn’t- _Who_ was… Words weren’t… happening right. Something was very… pain had stopped and… her head felt… funny. Something was wrong, but she couldn’t figure it out. Looking around, she didn’t recognize anyone… she thought she recognized the girl with the dark hair… and they all had antennae? Were they sisters? Did she know them?

And who was she? She couldn’t remember her name. Couldn’t remember anything, really, and, as her gag was removed, she really hoped that these girls could help her remember.

“Who,” she timidly asked, mortified to have forgotten something so important, “Who _am_ I?”

“Eve,” the dark haired girl told her, “You are Eve.” Eve sighed in relief. She had a name, and they _knew_ her. She felt safe with these girls, like she could trust them.

“Does she even deserve to be a Myrmidon?” the girl in the red cloak asked with disgust and Eve cringed in shame. Somehow, she felt that it was very important that this girl liked her, that they all liked her, and she should do _everything she could_ to make them not hate her. “Might just be better as a milk cow.”

But the red-haired one looked upon her with compassion. “Oh, I suppose she deserves some punishment, but she’s certainly not the big, scary Adam Taurus any longer.”

W-who? Eve wasn’t sure who they were talking about, but she was very worried that they were angry at her for some reason. She really, really didn’t want them to be angry at her! “P-please,” she cringed, “I’m sorry! I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry!”

“Aww, she’s just _adorable,”_ the dark haired replied, gently stroking Eve’s face. She melted at hearing her praise. Something about this girl made her feel safe and warm, like she knew her and knew she could trust her.

“I- I can be good!” she pleaded, “I promise! I’ll do what- whatever it takes to make you happy!”

The dark haired girl, the one she thought for _sure_ she knew, smiled, and Eve’s heart leapt to see it. She knew she had a friend here! She knew someone was looking out for her.

But then she grabbed Eve by the hair and roughly _yanked_ her head up to look her in the eye. “I think you have a lot of _apologies_ to make, but if you’re a good girl… I’m sure Master will be _very_ forgiving.”

Master? Eve couldn’t wait to meet her Master! She’d show him how _sorry_ she was until he _had_ to forgive her for whatever it was she did! She was so relieved that she had a Master, that he’d be able to tell her who she was and what her purpose was and what to do, and she was just _so_ grateful!

She was so lucky to have such good friends!

* * *

Leaving Jaune’s bed was nearly as hard a task for Yang as fighting the White Fang leader, but when she saw Pyrrha in the doorway, she knew that Duty compelled her to leave her slumbering beloved and do what needed to be done.

“How did it go?” she asked, but from Pyrrha’s triumphant scent, she didn’t really need to ask.

“Wholly successful,” Pyrrha beamed, “Our captive, ‘Eve’ Taurus, is right now being taught by Blake and Ruby her new role in the Swarm.”

Yang raised an eyebrow, “And that is...”

Pyrrha smirked, “Well, Ruby proposed that she should want to _apologize_ to us for her crimes and become our… ‘relief officer’ for our loyal sisters.”

She had to chuckle at that. Ruby had become quite the kinky girl now that she’d finally made her move on Jaune… or maybe it had to do with those erotic books Yang had only just learned that her sister was reading. “I _do_ like the sound of that… but I take it we’re going with another option?“

“Blake still holds a bit of a torch for her ex, and she requested that Eve be given a chance to redeem herself as a soldier under her—and Ruby’s—command.”

“So that’s what you meant by them teaching her...” Yang mused with a grin. She knew that Ruby and Blake would be cute together—they were both shy little introverted nerds and assigning the two of them to work closely together had achieved exactly what she hoped. And she was glad that they’d gotten themselves a little pet to share. Both because she was happy her sister’s new relationship was going well and also because Taurus was, and she knew this firsthand, _incredibly_ strong and would make a very potent Myrmidon. But, back to business.

“Well," Yang said, "I’m sure they’re having fun. But good work with the potion. We’ve _dramatically_ increased the recruitment opportunities available to us.”

“It was mostly from Master’s research notes on developing a restoration potion,” Pyrrha replied, no small amount of pride in Jaune’s brilliance evident in her voice, “I merely turned his work in a… different direction.”

“And how’d he- how did _she_ take it?”

Pyrrha attempted to hide a smile in vain. “A strong anaesthetic is recommended for future cases, which we already suspected, but… your sister requested that Taurus receive the dose directly. Repayment for the pain Taurus had put Blake through.”

Yang had to chuckle at that. Ruby was very protective of those she loved, and she knew that Taurus had, no matter what feelings she might still have for her leader, hurt Blake badly back before her conversion. Ruby would not let those cruelties be so easily forgiven without demanding _some_ punishment in return. But she did have one question still to ask. “Any concerns with the anaesthetic?”

“Not particularly,” Pyrrha shook her head, “And we have a good option for a numbing agent that doesn’t interact with the potion—one that Jaune also has a good stock of, thanks to the relatively limited injuries in the battle.”

“Well, that’s an advantage. And if it works, it works!” Yang said, giving Pyrrha an appreciative slap on the back. “And we’ll be able to ramp up production easily because—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—we’ve got Cinder supplying us the reagents we need.”

“And we have a stock sufficient for...” she let her meaning trail off.

“That we do...” She turned to her subordinate/superior with a wicked grin. Sisters were deployed throughout the town, encouraging celebrations and drunken revels amongst the townsfolk, lowering everyone’s guard. “I think it’s time,” she said, “I think it’s time we brought _everyone_ into the fold.”

“Has...” Pyrrha paused, evidently judging her words carefully, “Does Jaune know about this plan?”

Yang was silent for a moment. This was the big question. Most of what they’d done, they’d achieved without Jaune’s “formal” approval or, technically, his awareness. Pyrrha had first made her a Myrmidon through her own interpretation of his orders. The Indigo Banner had been Yang's call. Same with Raven, and… most of the girls after that. But Jaune was _very_ happy with them. Even more so if he didn’t have to worry about the ethical ramifications of what they were planning to do. And he would very much _enjoy_ what Pyrrha had planned, after all. So Yang cracked a smirk. “Sometimes… it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission, Pyr.”

Pyrrha saluted. From her scent, Yang could tell that, even though Pyrrha lived to carry out orders, this one… she was quite excited for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Renarde for feedback on this chapter!
> 
> Next chapter's the epilogue to this story, showing as the new Beacon adapts to life after the White Fang attack, and you'll see more of Yang and Pyrrha's unfolding master plan.


	11. Aftermath

It was strange to adjust to peacetime after being so long at war.

For Jaune, it was doubly true: he’d taken up, as his final task as Commander of Beacon’s Defenses, the duty of personally thanking the Myrmidons in any capacity they deemed appropriate. Surprisingly, many of their requests were quite simple: Pyrrha, who had done more than anyone, had requested only a single kiss and a lock of his hair. Nebula wanted to get to sit in “the big chair” for a few weeks. Others were… charmingly odd. Yang asked that he brew her a cup of coffee “like old times,” which meant sitting in his lab and complaining about every issue under the sun, especially his lack of common sense in his research. Arslan had demanded that he learn some unarmed combat from her personally, which… had been a surprisingly grueling series of exercises from someone who was supposed to value his pleasure and well-being above all else.

But many of them wanted _exactly_ what Jaune might have suspected. Miss Goodwitch had wanted them to do it in every room in the Town Hall, particularly over the Mayor’s desk and, very carefully, in the Town Archives. Raven had presented a number of girls of promise who had “proven” themselves worthy of becoming Myrmidons, and, when Jaune had asked if there was anything _she_ wanted… she’d blushingly (to see _Raven Branwen_ blush!) requested that he take a switch to her backside until it was raw. Ruby and Blake had insisted that he thank them together—it seemed that they’d formed something of a relationship, and they’d requested his “blessing” in the form of letting them worship him as a pair. And then he had to reenact some scenes from a… book that was _shockingly_ graphic for something that _Ruby_ owned. And Dew… that carriage ride home from the ceremony had awakened some _powerful_ fantasies in the former mercenary, and she was quite insatiable. Most of the girls from there had been interested in being thanked in increasingly elaborate sexual favors.

It had taken _weeks_ to finally reward the entire army. But once he’d finished, a very tired Jaune could, for the first time in _ages,_ go into town as just… Jaune Arc, local alchemist.

Or… maybe that chapter of his life was very much over. Because a _sizable_ chunk of the town was now not only sworn to his service, but he’d personally fulfilled their deepest sexual fantasies. Which made it hard to ever be “just” someone. And the town itself had been changed, from sleepy hamlet to bustling center of industry—Cinder had certainly come through on her ability to not only provide the resources they needed, but to also set up a network of trade. Pyrrha was actually meeting with a trade delegation at the moment, a meeting Jaune had briefly thought he should insert himself into, but… simply put, Pyrrha and Yang were better than him at this, and it was time for him to step aside. For all of Yang’s gratitude, Jaune knew that the work he did best was in the background, not at the top. He was a researcher and alchemist, not a general or mayor or King.

No matter how much a blushing Ruby insisted that the golden, formicid-patterned crown she’d made “could have been for anyone.”

But some things hadn’t changed, and as he approached the little cafe he used to get lunch at and read while sitting on their patio, he was happy to see that they had reopened from the siege. It had been too long since he’d had something normal, and a good lunch, paid for, _not_ prepared by an adoring servant girl, would do a lot to restore that normalcy. And he had some correspondence to catch up with—it’d been almost lost in the chaos, but he had been working with Pyrrha on a regenerative potion that would be of much interest to his herbalist friend in Mistral, perhaps even a possible cure for his wife’s long illness...

Of course, as soon as he was seated with his food, before he could even start drafting his letter, Jaune was approached by two Myrmidons, reminding him that there was no return to normalcy, no matter what he thought. He didn’t recognize either girl, but there’d been a lot of changes following the battle, and Jaune was only just catching up. He was kicking himself, though—they both looked _awfully_ familiar. Especially the blue-haired girl. He thought for sure he’d recognize someone with such bright blue hair. He sold hair dye, and the only one he knew who purchased that shade was Neptune Vasilias—perhaps a girlfriend of his? The monkey Faunus, he definitely knew he didn’t know, since Beacon’s Faunus population wasn’t _that_ high, and he had to assume she was a White Fang defector. It had been Blake’s work—her name still carried a lot of weight, and she’d been able to convince many of them to realize that Beacon provided a better option than with the White Fang. That they’d taken the Myrmidon potion had been a surprise, but he understood that this was a rather emotional time for the released prisoners.

The Myrmidon cow girl in his bed had been so… _grateful_ that he was not only merciful to all captured fighters, but that he would ensure the protection and equality for Faunus kind in Beacon that she had _insisted_ that they make love right then and there. Jaune had been initially wary, sensing the swarm’s hand in it, but the way that girl, Eve, _looked_ at him… so full of longing and regret, he just had to take the girl into his arms. And then she reminded Jaune that Myrmidons vastly exceeded his own strength as she eagerly threw him on the bed and mounted him.

Jaune had wanted them to cease recruitment, now that the White Fang had been dealt with, but Yang and Pyrrha had explained to him that, while their strategic situation was fairly safe in their immediate circumstances, they now had to deal with the fact that Beacon had become a heavily fortified castle and, likely, the dominant military power of the region. And that meant they were liable to make the nobility very wary. While his instinct was to cease Myrmidon recruitment, Nebula had made the case that a strong military force would help _prevent_ another war from happening. And he’d been inclined to agree with her, especially as her argument had been strengthened by her strategic insight to station Dew, Gwen, and Octavia under the table to punctuate her appeal.

But the two girls before him were now eagerly vying for his attention, and Jaune knew that his role was to reward Myrmidons with his affection. And, he had to admit, the two of them were _rather_ attractive, and he wouldn’t mind “thanking” them for joining the cause.

* * *

The long rifles fired with a mighty _crack_ and a great plume of smoke. Showy, but a little worrying—not only did it cut visibility, but the stench of sulfur made Myrmidon senses choke. She’d have to talk to Jaune about refining the formula.

But Ruby couldn’t deny the effectiveness. Blake’s handpicked squad of Myrmidon gunners had punched holes right through their targets at nearly 300 meters. Reloading was quick, almost reflexive, as the disciplined pack of Faunus and humans—now united as Myrmidons—reset their rifles back to firing position, antennae bobbing as they coordinated their moves, and another _crack_ as they put another set of holes in another set of targets.

Quite an improvement over the White Fang’s muskets. Their speed and accuracy had been improved tenfold, and Ruby took no small amount of pride in her prototypes. And she was, with Cinder’s help, starting to step up operations. She didn’t get why Yang was always warning her about Cinder—she was nice and funny, (plus, she could get her and Blake _all sorts_ of great books!) and she was really good at getting them the raw materials she needed. And once she had a proper foundry built, she’d be able to put some _real_ weapons into production. Ruby had shared some of her schematics with Cinder and she’d been so excited to see that she’d managed to startle the usually perfectly composed woman.

Practice finished, Blake gave some final advice and orders to the gunners, and then let them disperse. Just in time—Ruby had been getting impatient for the chance to race over and give her girlfriend a kiss.

She and Blake were now an “item,” and Ruby was _thrilled_ by everything about it. Blake was everything she’d ever wanted in a partner—smart, funny, liked reading, didn’t mind nights in, and thought that Ruby’s fascination with weapons wasn’t dorky at all! And, Blake knew _so much_ about sex that she was teaching Ruby, both for with her or with Jaune, and Ruby felt like she was so lucky that she could actually be in love with two people and they loved her back and it worked out _perfectly!_

After a quick makeout session, the two of them retired to get dinner, enjoying a romantic evening together at a Myrmidon-operated tavern (not that there was much left in the town that _wasn’t_ Myrmidon operated! Ruby really enjoyed turning those snooty rich jerks who always thought they were better than her because she was the youngest craftsman in Beacon, _especially_ because she and Blake got to turn a whole bunch of people together!) and chatting about how well all their plans for the future were going. But then Blake gave her a sly look.

“So… it seems that _someone’s_ had all the luck with Master and the Queen,” Blake teased.

Ruby stuck out her tongue. “I’m not going to apologize because being the Queen’s sister has its advantages...” She’d spent her entire life practicing and perfecting her puppydog pout on Yang, and now that experience paid off in _spades_ as a way to wriggle her way into Jaune’s bed—to the great jealousy of the rest of the Swarm. “Besides,” she teased, “I figured you’d like some space to have Eve all to yourself?”

Blake gave her a kiss. “You’re lucky you’re too adorable to stay mad at. But tell me: what’s the gossip from up top? Gwen’s been insufferable recently because Nebula’s in the loop, and I _really_ want something to rub her face in.”

That made Ruby giggle. “You know I can’t tell you anything that might get _leaked...”_

She _eeped_ as Blake gave her a playful punch in the arm. “Just tell me!” she mock whined.

“Well, I was with Yang and Pyrrha last night, and once Jaune had gone to sleep, they thought I was asleep, too.” Nope! Just curled up in his arms, feeling as snug as a bug in a rug! “So they started talking plans, and well...”

Blake smiled. “Don’t leave a sister hanging, Ruby! Come on, what’s the word?”

Ruby gave a coquettish smile. “Oh, I dunno, I don’t think Yang _wants_ me to be talking about-” She was cut off as Blake pounced on her, squeezing her boobs and overpowering her with arousal pheromones. “Okay! Okay! I give, I give!”

But Blake did not relent, instead, kissing her deeply. “So tell me! Tell me, tell me, tell me!”

Ruby smiled, loving that _she_ was the one with the inside scoop, as she whispered, “World conquest.”

Blake’s eyes widened in joy as she gasped. And they both broke into a fit of delighted giggles. Yang was just the best sister ever!

* * *

“P-please...” begged the woman prostrated before her. Pyrrha stood imperiously, looking down at the mewling girl, who’d only this morning had so imperiously announced herself as the Herald to Lady Escalades, demanding to only speak with the highest-ranked official in the town. Pyrrha savored her haughtiness, slowly breaking it down as the arrogant Herald realized she was little more than a needy whore. Pyrrha’s increasing knowledge of human psychology and her careful study of Yang and the rest of the Swarm had made her a far more efficient tool of conversion than when she first started, as this “Coco Adel” was learning.

“Please,” she pleaded again, “I- I n-need, need to...” she searched for the word, her mind struggling to comprehend what was happening to her, what great, inescapable _need_ her entire body and soul was crying for.

But Pyrrha could help. “You need to serve?” she asked, reveling in her power over the woman.

“Yes!” she cried, then moaned as her body rewarded her obedience with pleasure. “Oh _yessssss,_ please, I need it! I need to- to _obey.”_

Pyrrha smirked. So easy. Hardly any willpower when it came down to it, like, she had found, so many arrogant girls truly revealed themselves to be. “The Swarm is willing to take any who are willing to _submit,”_ the girl literally _quivered_ at those words, to Pyrrha’s amusement, “but we need more. You must offer _more._ What can you give to the Swarm, Coco Adel, to _prove_ your devotion?”

“I… I...” she struggled, but only for a moment as her last strands of resistance frayed and snapped. She looked up, her eyes lit with realization. “M-my wife! Velvet! I- I could offer you Velvet!” She seemed almost giddy at the realization that she could betray her beloved to them, that it gave her the opportunity to prove the depths of her devotion. “She is beautiful and she could serve the Swarm; we could serve together! In whatever—however—our Mistress commands!”

“You would betray your own _wife_ to us?” Pyrrha asked in mock surprise.

“Of- of course! She- she trusts me absolutely! And- and any- anyone else you want! Whoever- whatever you ask! I’ll do it, _please!”_

To see this once-proud woman debase herself so utterly… Pyrrha delighted in her _wretchedness._

But there was work to be done. Pyrrha could play with her later, in due time. “You will tell your Lady that the Myrmidons can be trusted, that Jaune Arc is a kind and humble man with no aspirations of conquest. You will sing his praises to your leaders, and encourage an alliance. And when you’ve done everything well… you can bring Velvet to us, and the two of you...” eyes sparkling with hope, Coco hung on Pyrrha’s every word, her instructions branded on her soul, “If you aid the Swarm, we shall make you _both_ Myrmidons.”

Coco _screamed_ in pleasure as the thought brought her to an orgasm so forceful she collapsed on the floor. She would make an excellent sister, and Pyrrha rather liked how smartly she was dressed. Now that they were a regional power, Jaune’s army needed a uniform, a way to be more visually unified as a sign of their singular will. And… Yang had explained to Pyrrha the concept of lingerie and other clothes specifically for the bedroom—Pyrrha didn’t quite understand, but she was eager to find new ways to make Jaune happy.

Helping Coco up from the floor, Pyrrha gave her some final instruction that the desperate slut was all too eager to accept. She had certainly learned to not be so contemptuous of Jaune, having denigrated him, her _Master,_ as a provincial peddler-turned-official when she first arrived. Now she had a new perspective, and she was quite insistent that she would make up for her mistake. Pyrrha reiterated her promise to _reward_ her and her wife should they help bring their Lady—and all her lands—into the Swarm and sent her on her way.

Alas, that was her fun for the day. Pyrrha had no real desire for administrative work over the joys of going out into the field and proving her strength, but Duty came first, and she was second only to Glynda in terms of organizational efficiency. And managing the Swarm right now required bureaucracy far more than a lone warrior.

But still, coordination was tedious work, a concept that was unthinkable as an ant, but now, as a Myrmidon, she was actually capable of being _annoyed_ by it. That gave her a bit of a smile, to think of what the trade offs of human life were. But it was only a slight amusement to distract from the busywork of sending letters to Nebula, Raven, and… Cinder. That last letter would be a _real_ annoyance, especially as _that woman_ had made herself indispensable to their recent growth. And she seemed to _delight_ in the invincibility her usefulness gave her. But as useful as she was, Pyrrha did not forget her vow. She was a patient huntress, and she knew that, as skilled as Cinder was, there would come a point where her talents no longer protected her. And Pyrrha would be there the _moment_ that happened.

But then she heard footsteps outside the door, and quickly dashed off the last lines of a note before she put the quill away to receive her visitor—something far preferable to paperwork.

She turned and saw… Yang. She was a little surprised at that. Yang hadn’t seemed like Yang as she picked up her scent before opening the door. Something… different, in a way that felt significant. And more, undeniably… queenly. She cocked an eyebrow.

“Oh, you’ve noticed?” she asked, teasingly. “Tell me, Pyrrha, how do you feel that you and Ruby are ants now?”

“Ants? What do you mean by ants?” Pyrrha asked in confusion. 

“Yes, you’ve gone from ant to Myrmidon to ant. It’s been quite a journey, hasn’t it?”

She looked at her Queen in abject confusion. “I... don’t understand.”

Yang placed a hand softly on her belly and softly stroked it. “Oh, you will. I suppose puns weren’t so much part of your ant culture… But you should know, Jaune and I are looking at an alternative way to expand our little family...”

And then it clicked. “Y-you mean!”

“Sure do, sister!”

Pyrrha shrieked in joy as she raced to give Yang a deep hug. “D-does Jaune know?”

She smirked. “I had him conduct the pregnancy test as soon as he got back from lunch.”

Stunned. That was all she could think. A little prince or princess of their Swarm. But even more immediately, an adorably blonde little tyke she could dote on and fuss over, rededicating her life in her service to her Master.

“I just think you’re going to make a great Aunt Pyrrha,” Yang smiled, and Pyrrha felt the tears spring to her eyes as she imagined the future they were building for their Master’s soon-coming child.

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

* * *

So they’d pulled it off.

Beacon, the sleepy little hamlet that she frequently _forgot existed_ had not only repulsed the army of the White Fang, they’d _humiliated_ them. Using some dark and ancient alchemy, the town had mustered an army of warrior women, supernaturally strong and totally loyal to the town. They’d even turned their White Fang captives into loyal soldiers, swelling their numbers even _further._ And why would they be gathering their numbers so greatly, why would they be amassing iron and such strange chemicals unless they had further plans...

That made them quite interesting.

And they made a rather… _fetching_ army as well. All women. All beautiful. Were they under armored because they lacked the raw material to equip them all, or did they know they simply looked more attractive with less steel covering them? She had always liked strong women. Much more entertaining when they _broke._

Yes, she would enjoy the new Beacon. It had been too long since she visited, and she was quite interested in finding out the whole story. To test her mettle and magic against a _truly_ worthy opponent. And perhaps, well… there was something about seeing a world-conquering army forming beneath her that made her _want._

There was one rule she lived by, a rule known to all who lived in the foothills and valleys that spread out beneath her mountain.

A Schnee _always_ got what she wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for Act 1 of Myrmidon! As hinted in this chapter, I have a few ideas for what's coming next, but, as always, I'm open to opinions and suggestions. I'll probably take a breather before starting to write Act 2, but in the meantime, I'm publishing She's Trying Her Best, about an adorkable Succubus Ruby trying to tempt Pyrrha and Jaune to sin, and for people who really like monster girls, I'm actually spinning off a number of monster girl stories from my RWBY Kink Fics posting backlog into it's own story. And I might happen to be working on a Jaune/Blake story where Jaune has a mysterious and inexplicable power over Faunus girls...
> 
> But thank you to everyone who offered kudos, comments, or just read my work. I had a lot of fun writing it, and I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> And finally, huge thanks to Renarde, who not only gave feedback and notes on my chapters, but also, when bouncing ideas around for a RWBY monstergirl story, asked me what would be a good monster for Pyrrha. Not really knowing much about the whole monstergirl thing, I thought of Pyrrha being based on Achilles, Achilles's leadership of the Myrmidons, so I asked, "are ant girls a thing?"
> 
> And thus, what was supposed to be a sexy Yang/Pyrrha wrestling kink fic chapter then turned into Act 1 of a 50k word story.


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